Extra Gray
by Fiery Gray
Summary: This will be a collection of extra content for my Gray: Scorpius Malfoy series, deleted scenes, extra flashbacks, things like that for people who are interested but is not necessary to read this as well. Since this is related to my Gray series and will feature many OCs from that, if you have not read the main series then this will not make much sense to you
1. VI: Agnes Wilson - Agnes' First Wand

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling_

_**Author's Note: **This will be a collection of extra content for my Gray: Scorpius Malfoy series, deleted scenes, extra flashbacks, things like that for people who are interested but is not necessary to read this as well. It will bounce around quite a bit so don't expect any of this to be in order and will be updated much less frequently, the time it takes place will be at the top of each chapter though. Or maybe this will be the only one and no one reads it, we'll see how it goes. Since this is related to my Gray series and will feature many OCs from that, if you have not read the main series then this will not make much sense to you _

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_Late October 2022, (VI: Chapter 19)_

Agnes Eleanor Wilson stood outside in the cool autumn air, fidgeting nervously as her stomach curled itself into knots and shoving her small hands into her pockets. She didn't know why, she'd be so sure for so long now that she was magical like her older brother but now that she was actually facing the prospect of getting her own wand… suddenly she was afraid that John had been mistaken and that Michael had been right all along to dismiss her claims. What if she wasn't a witch and she was just wasting everyone's time?

"Ready to go?" John queried and Agnes jolted slightly in surprise, he was good at being quiet.

She nodded without thinking and he held out his hand to her, his stoic face was unsmiling as it usually was but she thought his cerulean eyes were kind. Maybe it was just because he'd saved her sister's life but she always felt safe with him, he reminded her of Michael in a way in the sense that they both were reliable and protective even when they were being distant. Well, until lately when Michael just hated her.

Agnes took John's hand and in the next second she was hurtling through space, her body feeling uncomfortably like it was being wedged into a tube before it was over and she was just standing in a street. It was a cobbled street like the in Diagon Alley, the only other wizarding place she'd been through. The buildings weren't as impressive though, they were dilapidated hovels and many of them seemed lopsided. She couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed, she'd expected more from Hogsmeade the all-wizard dwelling.

"I told you apparation gets easier," John commented as he started to guide her through the maze of narrow streets.

"Yeah," Agnes confirmed as she continued to look around distractedly, "Why does this place look…"

"Like a dump?" John guessed and Agnes gave a half-shrug, that was kind of what she meant even if she'd have phrased it more nicely, "It was destroyed when the werewolf army attacked a few years back then destroyed again a few months ago when the Shadow Master attacked, the Ministry nor the people just don't have the money to throw at it again. Homes are the worst off, they put more money into places they'll get money off of."

"Go to hell and die, Avery, you Death Eater scum!" a random man snapped in passing, literally spitting at John who completely ignored it and kept on walking while the man continued to yell back after them much to Agnes' fright, "Yeah, you better run! Coward!"

"Do people usually yell at you like that?" Agnes wondered fearfully.

"Yep," John admitted readily, "And that's why you should always think carefully about the decisions you make, even as a kid making a bad choice can haunt you for the rest of your life. The past is written in stone, what's done is done and you can never take it back or change it, you can't even make up for it."

"Well still, that man was being rude and you're not bad now," Agnes pointed out, "Couldn't you just tell him that?"

"Standing up for yourself just makes you seem like even more of a bad person to them, they don't care what you have to say. It's best to just ignore it."

He said the last with a note of finality that silenced her so Agnes went back to taking in Hogsmeade, it was quite different to a muggle dwelling. There were no cars – not even parked – which also meant the streets were narrower, the lopsided houses had no garages or driveways. And then there were the people, all dressed in wizard clothes and robes. That random guy wasn't the last to call out insults to John either, or spit at him or glare at him which just made her sad. Why were magic people so unforgiving? They didn't like her brother because he was a werewolf, they didn't like John because he'd been a Death whatever a long time ago. Apart from that she felt quite at ease with the crowd, numerous people were also sporting scars even ones by werewolf claws like hers – which she supposed made sense considering the misfortunes of Hogsmeade – so she didn't feel like such a scarred freak like she did around muggles.

She did notice an unusual amount of people looked like teenagers as well, she knew Hogwarts let the older students go to Hogsmeade sometimes from Michael. Maybe this was one of those times? Eagerly Agnes wondered if she'd see her brother, she couldn't wait to tell Michael about being a witch and living with John, she was learning so much. She got to help out with the John's magical creatures, gardening the herbs he grew and he'd started showing her how to brew actual potions. It was so cool and now Crystal didn't work, she saw her mum all the time and she actually got to relax too since John did most of the housework. It was also nice to not have to go to school where she was teased for her butt ugly scarred face. She didn't see Michael though, she spotted one of his friends – Albus – and waved to the puzzled looking boy.

"Don't wave to people," John chastised her and Agnes guiltily shoved her hand back into her pocket as they kept walking, she was supposed to be dead for the time being, "Here we are, wasn't quite sure where it was in the rebuild."

They came to a halt in a particularly run-down section of Hogsmeade, no one here was insulting John though at least. It seemed like a shop… maybe? There was a red board up with illegible letters scrawled into it, the board was also falling down. John led her inside though, into a dingy cramped room crammed with shelves bursting from all the random crap that seemed shoved in randomly. There were books, trinkets, ornaments, jars of potion ingredients and liquids, some potion ingredients didn't even seem to have jars as some squishy things were just wedged in with the rest of the junk, some of it was even dripping onto other things. She didn't see any wands though.

John ignored all that though and led her straight to the counter where an elderly wizard was waiting, he was balding but the hair he did have was straggly and stuck out wildly which reminded her of a crazy professor. Agnes didn't think he smelled very nice either, although maybe it was the shop. He rubbed his grubby hands together and eyed then curiously, he smiled revealing rotting yellow teeth.

"Well look who it is," the wizard said in a tone of surprise, "I thought you were dead."

"I'm looking for a wand for this girl, Ewart," John stated, ignoring the man's comment and cutting to the chase which caused the old man's eyes to drift to her before back to John.

"I suppose I may be able to help with that," the old man – presumably Ewart – mused and gestured for them to follow as he opened a door behind him, leading them down a staircase into an even smaller basement room except this one had walls lined with what looked like shoe boxes except smaller and thinner, "Where'd you get the kid from?"

"None of your business."

"Why can't she wait to get a wand when she's of Hogwarts age?"

"In the times we live in?" John scoffed and the old man inclined his head in agreement, "No point waiting."

"Fair enough, wouldn't want another Lenore would we?" Ewart wondered and John averted his eyes as they flicked with sorrow, the older man gestured to the room, "Well go on, girl, have at it."

"What-What do I do?" Agnes wondered in confusion.

"In the boxes there's wands, go find one that wants you."

"How do I know if it wants me?"

"You just give them a wave, you'll know when you find one that's right," Ewart pointed out as if it was obvious and Agnes nervously wondered over to the walls of boxes, "That scar's new. What did you do to your face, John?"

"None of your business," John repeated as Agnes picked a box at random that was near her, taking out the wand and going to wave it, "Other way round."

"Since you're using my business to buy an illegal wand for an underage girl, aren't you technically my business?" Ewart wondered as Agnes held the wand from the other end and waved it, jumping backwards in shock as several of the boxes flew off their shelves.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Agnes called old apologetically and panicked, neither man so much as glanced in her direction though.

"Its fine, we can put them back easily. Keep trying," John brushed it off and Agnes nervously put the wand down and went to try another, he didn't reply to Ewart's statement though as Agnes picked up one of the fallen wands and waved it which caused a bang as one of the shelves broke. Again neither seemed to mind.

"I liked Lenore better than this girl," Ewart complained disinterestedly as she picked up another wand, "She may have been a filthy half-blood but she grew to be quite the looker, this one could grow into a nice body but she can't grow back half a face."

"I _will _curse you," John said threateningly and Ewart took a step back, Agnes hung her head sadly as she felt a stab of hurt before waving it and Ewart yelped as he was thrown backwards. She looked down at her wand in surprise… But she was also impressed, "I like that wand."

"So do I," Agnes admitted and John came over to pluck it from her grip to show to Ewart as he got back to his feet.

"How much for this one?"

"For that one?" Ewart repeated and ambled over to look at it, he snatched it away and studied it, "Snakewood and Kelpie Hair, nine and three quarter inches. Well, that'll be twenty."

"Sickles?"

"Galleons," Ewart corrected and John waved his own wand irritably, sending the wands hurtling back into their boxes and slotting themselves back into place minus the one for Agnes' potential wand, "And I'll knock off one for that, nineteen."

"Fifteen."

"Nineteen."

"Sixteen."

"Eighteen."

"Seventeen, that's halfway," John insisted and Ewart eyed him warily.

"Seventeen and a Sickle."

"Done," John agreed and held out his hand which Ewart shook, "And to think, I would've paid eighteen."

"Oh shut up, you," Ewart grumbled as he yanked his hand away and picked up the box, putting the wand back and handing it to Agnes while they started heading back up to the main shop, "Anything else you're looking for like to add to that tally? Business is not exactly booming these days."

"A cure for the Festering Curse," Agnes spoke up and John froze momentarily, recalling John was afflicted by it, "Do you know one?"

"I know _of_ one," Ewart mused as he scratched his chin as a smile slipped back onto his face, "It needs Alchemy I believe. I may know a guy who knows a guy who knows another guy who just might be able to get it, it'll cost you though."

"No thanks, it'll take me long enough to pay off this wand," John shot it down immediately and Agnes looked at him in surprise, "It's not important."

"As you wish," Ewart stated and John handed him a small bag of jingling coins, "I expect the rest soon."

"You'll get it in five easy payments or less," John assured him as he led Agnes out of the shop, she waited until then to speak up.

"Why didn't you accept the Festering Curse cure?" Agnes asked worriedly as they started walking again, "Won't you die without it?"

"Agnes, people lie. Particularly salesmen, particularly desperate disreputable salesmen like Ewart. He'd say anything to get more money off you, there was no cure," John explained and Agnes felt her heart sinking slightly at the lack of a lead on a cure, he stopped and offered her his hand with a hint of a smile, "Come on, let's get home and get you and your new wand started on some spells."

"Okay," Agnes smiled eagerly at the thought and took his hand as he disapparated them away.


	2. I: Lorcan Scamander - A Theft of Twins

_**Thanks to: **Lucifersdaughter, percyjackson42, KekuleSalvador, Colin Creevey and green aura for reviewing!  
_

_**Author's Note: **I just really want to say thank you, I was surprised how well this was received. Also let me know if there's any characters or scenes (and by scenes I mean things that have happened that you didn't see not random things you'd like to happen) in particular you're interested in, no promises but there's plenty I can do for this and I'd be willing to take on board who/what people are curious about  
_

**_Questions:_**

**_Is there a cure?_**  
_Yes_

**_Is this important to the Gray series, like should I be expecting Alchemy to save John or is it just a side thing or was the salesman actually lying?_**  
_The salesman was telling the truth_

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_May 29th 2018, (I: Chapter 15)_

Lorcan Scamander was having a great day, it almost summer and the clouds had been sent on their way leaving just a shimmering golden orb hanging in the sea of blue sky. They were at Hugo's house for a play date, a welcome change from their usual home as Hugo was lucky enough to live in a muggle suburb with a muggle park within walking distance where they could play. It was also his and Lysander's birthday in two weeks, he couldn't wait. There'd be a party with all his friends who weren't in Hogwarts yet, they'd get lots of presents and there'd be cake. He'd heard rumors of a chocolate Hungarian Horntail birthday cake that would have flames coming out of its nostrils – one for each of them obviously – to blow out in place of candles, he couldn't help but grin at the thought because he couldn't wait.

"Hey Lorc! Lorc! Lorc! Lorc! Lorc! Lorc! Look at me!" Lysander yelled out excitedly and Lorcan tore himself away from his thoughts to turn his head, seeing his mirror image hanging upside down on the monkey bars, "Look Lorc, I'm upside down! I'm like a vampire!"

"Very good, Lys! Just be careful not to fall!" Lorcan called down from where he sat at the top of the slide.

"Actually, vampires don't sleep hanging upside down," Hugo pointed out, the bushy red head pausing in spinning around on the roundabout to state his fact, "Plus sunshine isn't exactly ideal vampire weather."

"Oh Hugo, keep an open mind," Lysander criticized in a cheerful tone as he climbed down from the monkey bars, "If a vampire wants to play in the sunlight then they should be able to, why not?"

"Same reason a werewolf can't stay human during the full moon."

"Why can't a werewolf stay human during the full moon? All they need to do is eat pixie dust."

"Why do I let you read?" Lorcan laughed in amusement at his brother's odd beliefs.

"Why do I let you climb up there?" Lysander countered playfully, "It's a slide, Lorc, you're supposed to… you know, slide not sit at the top watching us."

"Sorry, I get distracted by the view," Lorcan admitted with a blush and slid down immediately, "We live in the middle of nowhere, we don't usually get to see a muggle town."

"I like living in the middle of nowhere, there's the enchanted forest and the fields of the fairies," Lysander stated grandly, holding out his hands to gesture expansive land, "It's magical."

"Everything's magical to you, Lys," Hugo laughed as he abandoned the roundabout to come over to them.

"And that's why we love him," Lorcan offered and put his arm around his brother warmly with a grin that Lysander returned, "So next let's play dragons!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Lysander agreed, jumping up and down eagerly before stopping to look innocent while Hugo looked worried, "Except can I be a werewolf instead of a dragon?"

"Err… Sure, why not?"

"Ooh, can it be the full moon?" Lysander wondered excitedly, bouncing up and down again.

"Sure."

"Can I have taken pixie dust during the full moon so I don't transform?"

"Erm… Then you're basically just being a human," Lorcan pointed out in confusion and resisted the urge to point out that pixie dust really wouldn't help.

"No, I'll be a werewolf who just took pixie dust during the full moon," Lysander insisted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "There's a difference."

"Alright fine. I'll be a Hungarian Horntail in honor of the one I may or may not have heard Mum and Dad discussing," Lorcan announced with a wink as he gestured to himself, "What about you, Hugo?"

"I don't know," Hugo said and scratched the back of his head, glancing at the watch on his wrist, "We're supposed to be back before dinner, I think we should probably be heading back. I don't want us to get in trouble."

"Come on, if they wanted us back then they'd come looking for us," Lorcan brushed it off with a roll of his eyes, "Live a little."

"I feel like we should go back," Hugo insisted worriedly, "How about I go back and ask how much longer we can stay?"

"Fine. Why do you have to be so responsible?"

"Part of being ten," Hugo joked as he started to head off, "Just wait! In two more weeks you'll be the same!"

"Never!" both Scamander's cried in unison and Hugo fled laughing before Lysander turned back to him grinning.

"Okay so let's start without Hugo and as some background on my character, his name is Clancethrope Wiggenweld, he-"

"ROAR!" Lorcan yelled at his brother, holding his arms up and out wide which had his twin jump back in confusion, "I'm a dragon! I don't care what your name is! I just want to eat you!"

"Wait, how are you speaking English if you're a dragon?"

"Lysander, they're my thoughts obviously," Lorcan pointed out the rather obvious thing and Lysander inclined his head in understanding before Lorcan lunged for him again, Lysander shrieked and jumped out of the way, "You shouldn't have eaten pixie dust, you foolish werewolf!"

"Wait, how would a dragon know Clancethrope Wiggenweld is a werewolf who took pixie dust?" Lysander questioned in confusion as he came to another halt.

"You talk too loudly," Lorcan invented before lunging for a third time, "ROAR!"

This time Lysander fled laughing as Lorcan chased him through the park as a dragon, over the various play things until they finally ended up at the top of the slide. It was too narrow and the great dragon ended up being tricked into falling backwards down the mountain – which was surprisingly fun – and to his death.

"Oh no, dear dragon, I never meant for you to die as well! I'll try save you!" Lysander called down before sliding after him, Lorcan didn't move because he was dead but sorely regretted it as his brother landed painfully on top of him. He groaned, "Oh dear dragon – whose _only_ crime was trying to murder me – I'm so happy you- Ooh, Lorc, look at that."

"Look at what?" Lorcan grumbled before noticing it, hovering right over his head was a strange glowing light, "What the hell is that?"

"I don't know but it's beautiful," Lysander gasped and clambered off him, gazing at it with awe as it circled around them, "Can we keep it, Lorc? Can we? I shall call him Shiny."

"Lys, I don't even know if that's a living thing," Lorcan pointed in confusion as he also got up to look at it, "It might be some kind of firefly… or just a spell."

"Quick! No!" Lysander cried desperately as the thing started to fly away, he bolted after it with arms flailing to try to grab it, "Come back, Shiny! Come back! My brother didn't mean to call you a spell, please don't be upset! Shiny, come back!"

"I really think we should stay in the park!" Lorcan protested as he chased after his brother, "Hugo should be back for us any second! Lys! Lys! Lysander Xenophilius Scamander, stop chasing Shiny this instant!"

"Shiny! Shiny! I love you! Come back and be my friend! Shiny!"

"If you really love Shiny then let him go where he wants!" Lorcan screamed and almost ran into his twin as he came to an abrupt halt, turning back to him.

"Do you really think that's the case?" Lysander wondered worriedly.

"Yes I do," Lorcan insisted firmly, putting a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder while Lysander looked away sadly before seeming to notice something.

"Well what if Shiny stops right here?" Lysander pointed out and gestured to beside them, Lorcan realized they were standing beside a muggle car or van, he forgot. The back doors were wide open though, revealing an empty compartment where Shiny was hovering as far away from them as possible. Lysander made a move to go in, "I think he wants to be found and be my friend."

"No!" Lorcan snapped and yanked Lysander back, "Lys, come on. You have to see this is really weird and suspicious, right?"

"No," Lysander stated innocently, Lorcan sighed in frustration. He'd have to be diplomatic.

"Well how about this, we go back to the park and if Shiny follows then you know he really wants to be with you. Okay?"

"Okay," Lysander agreed with a reluctant sigh, "Come on Shiny, come on boy, and come with Lysy."

"We're going now."

Lorcan took his brother by the arm to lead him away, hoping he'd be able to find his way back to the park. When he turned though, he was shocked to see a steely eyed man standing there dressed in black wizard's robes. He hadn't heard him and it wasn't like people could just appear out of thin air, well they could but just not silently. At least, he didn't think so. At any rate, he didn't look friendly and had a wand in hand.

"The only place you're going is into the van," the man growled, Lorcan felt his heart freezing in terror.

Lorcan noticed his wand arm twitching just in time to suspect he was going to use, he threw himself at Lysander to knock them out of the way from the burst of light that burst from the man's wand. Lysander started crying but Lorcan ignored it as he yanked him up, dragging them both up and behind one of the open van doors to use for cover from whatever second spell the man had fired which he heard slamming into it.

He felt his heart pounding in his chest, wildly trying to leap out and abandon its host just to save itself. He could feel his brother shaking from fright since he still held his arm as Lysander continued to cry. He wanted to cry as well, or scream into the silent street and run as fast as his trembling legs would carry him but some small, rational part of his mind drowned that out. He couldn't freak out, he had to focus.

"You think hiding behind a door will save you?" the man wondered incredulously.

"We-We're g-going t-to d-die ar-aren't we?" Lysander whispered to him in tears, Lorcan had a twin to protect.

He swallowed and turned back to the door, putting himself protectively in front of his twin. The hanging open door was all that was standing between them and the man but maybe he could use that, he could hear the man walking closer. As soon as he was close enough, Lorcan shoved the door closed as hard as he could, it smacked and the man cried out painfully as the metal door slammed into him.

"Run, Lys, run!" Lorcan yelled at his twin and pushed Lysander to get him running, pelting after him while their attack gave an annoyed grunt.

Shadows seemed to stretch out from under another car and suddenly the attacker was standing in front of them again, blood dripping down his nose and his face red where he'd been hit by a door. Lorcan instinctively shoved Lysander to the right and ducked himself to avoid the streak of a spell that flew over his head, both were missed but Lysander had kept running.

The attacker reached out to grab the passing boy, Lorcan grabbed a rock from the ground and threw it at the man. It missed his arm but struck his face, distracting him from Lysander who ran on by. Only to then pause, throwing a look over his shoulder as he seemed to realize that Lorcan had stopped running when he ducked.

"Keep running and don't stop! He can't chase both of us!" Lorcan urged his brother.

Lysander nodded, his amber eyes still streaming and his face fearful as he ran. Lorcan turned on his heel and ran the opposite way, not wanting to leave his brother but also thinking he was right that it was a good idea. With only one guy they couldn't chase them both and maybe Lysander could get help while Lorcan… Lorcan would think of something else. He had to dammit, he was too young to die, he and Lysander still had so much to leave for.

Lorcan weaved between cars to make him a harder target to hit, hoping Lysander could think to do the same. He didn't know if he was being followed, he daren't look back to check. Without warning, a man stepped in front of him out of a space in between two cars. Too close and too fast to avoid, Lorcan accidently ran into him. He opened his mouth to beg for help against his attacker but the man shoved him back and slammed his fist into Lorcan's face, he was shoved back against the car while his eye stung badly. He tried to look back to the new man, realizing two late he'd been wrong about a solo attacker as a spell from the second man struck him. And then the world went black…

"Hey Lorc! Lorc! Lorc! Lorc! Lorc! Lorc! Wake up!" Lysander's voice yelled out desperately.

Lorcan's eyes snapped open to see the frightened face of his twin, he cringed immediately as his eye continued to throb. Apparently, the attack had not been a dream. He found he was lying on his side, he'd guess on the floor from the cold flagged stone on his face. For some reason, his wrist was also stinging painfully but he didn't remember injuring it.

He sat up slowly and Lysander threw his arms around him tightly, Lorcan hugged his twin and looked around to see they were in some kind of small dungeon. The walls were brick and there were no windows anyway, just a door that was opening… Lorcan pulled himself out of the hug and instead pushed Lysander behind him, holding out his arms protectively to keep his twin behind him. The man entering was the same one who'd tried to take them initially, except it seemed his face had been healed from the door.

"Oh you're both awake already," the man commented, "Saves on a Revival Spell."

"Wh-What do you want with us?" Lorcan questioned, hating the quiver of fear in his voice he tried so hard to hide.

He still needed to be strong for Lysander, maybe… maybe he could still think of a way out of this or… or Hugo, maybe he'd come back and seen what happened so he could go and get help. Yeah, there was probably a team of Aurors about to take this guy down… Right? _Right?!_ There had to be, this couldn't be really happening.

"Our family isn't rich," Lysander added shakily, gulping fearfully.

"I don't want money, we're just going to do a little experiment with you," the man told them with a smirk and inclined his head specifically to Lorcan, "Since you've shown yourself more talented, you get to stay with us first while your weakling of a brother can go hang out with the muggle scum."

"It's not nice to call muggles scum. Or people in general scum," Lysander pointed out as the man started to approach them, much to Lorcan's horror. Lysander gave a high-pitched shriek as he burst into tears, "Please don't take me away from my brother! We're twins, we should be left together! _Please!_"

"I'm not letting you take my brother," Lorcan added more threateningly then he felt, regardless the inner calm part of his mind was drowning his other thoughts again. Except this time it was really determined.

"What are you going to do?" the man scoffed, pushing him aside to grab Lysander.

"NO!"

Lorcan threw himself at the man, tugging desperately at the fairly muscled arm to try pull him off Lysander. He was failing miserably though against the strength of an adult, seeing he was about to be brushed off… Lorcan did something he never actually thought he'd do, he bit down on the man's exposed arm as hard as he could. The man cried out in pain and pushed Lysander away to punch Lorcan off him, Lorcan's head spun as he fell back but he also noticed the open door.

"You bloody brat, you bit me!" the man yelled angrily.

"Lys, the door!" Lorcan cried desperately, gesturing at it as he tried to get up but the man proved to be the faster than them as he whipped out his wand.

"_Crucio!"_

Lorcan felt pain more intense then he'd ever felt before in his life course through his veins, more intense then he'd ever believed it was possible to feel. He felt as if every part of him was suddenly being drilled into with something on fire, every fiber of his being was in agony. He screamed and screamed, crying for mercy along with a second voice and howling in agony as he writhed on the ground, contorting to try escape the pain it was under.

And then it was over.

Lorcan lay there crying, choking on his tears as the waves of diminishing residual pain rolled through him. He was no longer convulsing but his body still trembled from the pain, he curled himself into the fetal position. Why was this happening to him? He was just a kid, he shouldn't be dealing with this. Nor should… His eyes snapped back open in panic as he recalled Lysander, forgotten in his pain. His brother was still standing there though, watching him shakily with a tear-stained face of his own. The man hauled Lorcan to his feet with a cruel smirk emerging from the angry expression, he didn't let go of him.

"You'll pay for that, _you_ can get the muggle first instead then," the man growled as he frog marched Lorcan to the door.

Lorcan managed a look back and his amber eyes caught their twin as Lysander stood watching him go. Somehow he knew both of them were wondering if they'd ever see each other again, let alone be able to go home again and what even was planned for them. Lorcan flinched from the bang as the man slammed the door behind him, separating him from his twin forever.


	3. F: Rojer Voltur - Crippled Luck

_**Thanks to: **KekuleSalvador, Colin Creevey and green aura for reviewing!  
_

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_August 3rd 1949, (Flashback)_

When Rojer was younger, his father always rose at dawn and they quite often used to watch the sunrise. He remembered it being beautiful, remembered how sun used to light up the sky with a dazzling array of colors. It had been a long time since he saw a sunrise like that, it wasn't like that now. It never seemed like that now, as if his father had taken all the light in the world with him when he died. When he died all because of him. These days the inky black sky just gradually paled and mixed in with the dull gray clouds clogging up the air, it just looked grimy. He couldn't even see the sun.

He was sixteen by his count, although he felt more like sixty. He had none of the vigor of youth, there was little meat on his bones and his withered, emaciated frame was much smaller than the others his age. He hadn't eaten in a few days, hunger gnawed at his insides but he'd learned that was a good thing. When you were truly starved, you hadn't even the strength to feel hunger. The farmer had decided he didn't deserve to eat because he didn't work fast enough, the daily beatings weren't punishment enough apparently. He couldn't work fast enough, he was trying to run away and it was all he could do to haul his battered, bruised body through the Polish landscape at a limp thanks to his leg.

The pain ranged aching to searing, right now it was searing from the weeks of work riling it up. He could barely bend it right now which made walking difficult, every step was agony and the leg dragged behind. Trees were his friends, he leaned on any in passing for support. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest, his leg burned and his dark chestnut eyes felt raw from lack of sleep. He couldn't sleep when the pain was that bad, not unless he passed out from exhaustion. He couldn't rest though, he needed to keep his momentum going and put as much distance between himself and the famer as possible in case they were looking for him. He didn't even know where he was going or what he was going to do.

He really hadn't thought through running away, in truth it was probably quite foolish since it was less than a month before he'd be back in Bratuslaw and not that many years before he was of age. Not that Bratuslaw was a picnic, he was frequently whipped because he struggled to be on time for class since he couldn't move very fast and his cruel classmates did not help. But it served its purpose for giving him his magical education he supposed, plus he was fed and given a proper bed. He didn't even have his wand since they kept them in Bratuslaw to prevent those underage from using magic outside of school, he had nothing but the threadbare clothes on his back. He hadn't thought it through. He just didn't want to be beaten anymore.

He stumbled through the undergrowth weakly and tripped, he fell painfully onto the ground with his bruised body screaming in protest at being aggravated but not as much as his leg. He lay there for a moment breathing heavily through gritted teeth against the pain, it eased a fraction as the moment passed. Then came the challenge of trying to get to his feet when his leg hurt too much to bend, he fell back a few times in more flares of pain. He rubbed his leg, vainly trying to ease the pain even slightly. He knew he deserved it but damn it hurt, it hurt so much every second of every minute or every hour of every single day. He cowardly wished it would stop, he didn't want to be in constant pain.

He swallowed those foolish thoughts and dragged himself closer to a tree, using it to awkwardly pull himself back up. He stood for a minute, practically hugging the thing as he waited for the flare of pain to recede before limping on weakly because his broken body had no stamina. He kept his eyes on the shifting ground as he staggered through the trees, if this forest didn't end soon then he'd have to rest before he collapsed. No sooner had he thought that he smelt the very human scent of baking bread drifting in to his nostrils, he had to be close to humanity for that. He tried to follow the smell and started to hear sounds indicating civilization, finally breaking through the tree line to see he'd made it to the next town which was a small wizarding village. The white brick buildings had a lopsided look to them, the little thatched roofs etched onto the top. They were just dirt streets it seemed but there was a slight bustle, people setting up stalls ready for the day.

Rojer wandered in uncertainly, the lack of trees not helping his balance but the dirt was more uneven then the littered forest undergrowth. It was also colder without the trees for shelter, he felt the breeze tousling his wavy, extremely dark auburn hair and slicing him through the thin slivers of fabric he was given to pass for clothes. He limped through, his eye drifting hungrily to the different stalls and his stomach reminding him of his hunger. He had no money obviously and considered stealing but ultimately decided against it, the pain in his leg was far worse than his hunger. He needed to find somewhere to rest, he scanned his eyes around looking for abandoned-looking buildings. He was finally drawn to a tower on the outskirts opposite to where he'd came in, it looked a bit away from the rest of the village and there was kind of a hole in the side. Surely that meant it was empty?

He approached it and pushed the door, finding it unlocked which he thought was a good sign. He crept inside and groaned inwardly at the spiraling stone steps he was faced with, nonetheless he gritted his teeth and promised himself the rest would be worth it. He started his slow ascent up the staircase of hell, each step was agony with the limited mobility and he needed to grip the walls heavily for support. It felt like an age before he finally reached the top, he clutched the wall for dear life as he walked into the room which he was surprised and disappointed to see seemed occupied. There was a bed pressed against the side of the wall, a cauldron bubbling in the center of the circular room and a variety of furniture such as tables, chests of draws and wardrobes lining the walls. They held a variety of things, an odd assortment of ingredients, rocks and books wedged everywhere, there was also a door leading off on the far side along with some small, closed windows dotted around and randomly a stack of sacks by the door.

Rojer knew he should leave, it was clearly occupied but he still didn't think anyone was here. He hadn't exactly been quiet coming up the stairs, if they hadn't heard that then they weren't there. His leg was searing so badly be could barely move at all, he collapsed onto the sacks near the door as even the bed across the room was too far for him. He'd just rest, just for a minute so the pain would ease. He went to rest his head on the scratchy burlap sack but found it dropping anyway, the strain catching up to him as darkness engulfed his vision…

He snapped awake in surprise and terror as he heard the door bang open, he turned to see a man entering with an armful of ingredients. He whistled happily to himself before he noticed Rojer, surprise mirroring his own at the boy in his room. Rojer panicked, he grabbed the nearest thing – a rock from the closest dresser – and hit the stranger in the head as hard as he could. The man hit the ground and went still, Rojer felt his heart pounding violently and the rock dropped from his hand as he flashed back to the time he'd bashed in someone's skull with a rock. He'd killed him. Well, he had meant to kill that particular individual but not this man who hadn't done anything wrong or at least hadn't done anything to Rojer himself to deserve it. He blinked away images of the bloody mess to look at the man in the present.

He was an adult, maybe late twenties or early thirties but was quite short with bony hands. He had a head of dark hair sprawled over his head and the floorboards like spilled oil. His nose was small, his sharply shaped eyes and the thin mouth were all squished too close together, it almost looked as if someone had crumpled them up and thrown them back onto his face. His eyebrows were strange, patchy, scarred and actually singed. In contrast he had quite large feet with thick brown boots covering them, he was dressed in navy wizarding robes and was likely married if the wedding ring on his finger was anything to go by. He didn't look threatening but that could be just because he was asleep and he was asleep, Rojer was relieved to notice the stranger was breathing in and out.

Rojer was glad to not have killed an innocent man but it did now cause a new problem, this man had seen his face and could very well have him arrested for breaking in. He'd rather not be a prisoner again if he could help it, a dark part of his mind suggested killing the defenseless man but he quickly dismissed it. The man was still innocent, he was the one in the wrong here. Yet he also had no intention of hanging around to get in trouble, he'd have to leave and he'd have to leave fast which was not easy when he was crippled. Not without something to speed the process along, did the man have any money? Surely he did, people who weren't Rojer tended to have money, with money he could buy passage to leave the village. Maybe some food as well. Where did people keep money though?

Rojer got to his feet, using the doorframe as a nicely placed grip to pull himself up and started searching around for money in the various drawers. As usual, he couldn't move fast enough though and far sooner than he expected, he heard the man stirring. He mustn't have hit him hard enough. He abandoned his quest to rob the man to try flee instead or grab something to defend himself again instead, maybe he could find some way to use surprise to his advantage again and hit him while he was still recovering.

Nope.

He caught a glimpse of a flash of light as a spell soared from the man's wand, Rojer tried in vain to avoid it as he still couldn't move quickly with his leg. He was thrown back and collided painfully with the wall, stirring up the pain from the bruises he already had even before he slid to the ground. He couldn't win against a wand, it was over. Rojer held up his hands as a sign of surrender and said as much in Polish, his hands shaking as his heart started beating fearfully again like a caged bird. He lifted his head to eye the stranger, the man still with his wand on Rojer. He swallowed nervously, not expecting the man to show him mercy – as if that ever happened – and conjuring images of punishments in his mind as the stranger approached. Was he going to cruciate him? Beat him? Whip him? Burn him? Conjure something to beat him with? Or would he just leave that to the law enforcement?

"Get up," the man spoke an English words and Rojer groaned inwardly, he hadn't been learning English very long, he also didn't remember what 'get' even meant. Why in the freaking hell why did it seem like no matter how many languages he was forced to learn, it was never enough? He hated languages, he hated them with a passion. Why did everyone have to be so divided by stupid shapes you make with your mouth and just so damn difficult? "I said get up!"

"No," Rojer said as he thought the man wanted him to stand since he was telling him up, get probably meant do or stand. That was just as hard done as it was said though with his leg, he tried to think how to correctly articulate that, "I… leg… am… hurt."

"I don't care, get up!" the man snapped, eyeing him with an expression of suspicion and disbelief. Rojer thought 'don't' was a negative word like no, he didn't know what care was but from what he gathered the man did not believe him about his leg.

"I leg am hurt," Rojer repeated, trying to sound clearer and hoping he was expressing about his leg right, "I am leg hurt? I am hurt leg? I hurt am leg-"

"Get up!" the man shrieked and grabbed him by the arm to haul him to his feet.

Rojer gasped at the wave of pain that erupted in his leg. He did catch a flicker of fear in the man's eye though and noticed a trickle of blood sliding down from his hair, was he actually concerned that Rojer was a threat? Rojer the starved, beaten, worthless cripple who didn't even have a wand on him? Rojer might've laughed at the thought if he remembered how and the situation was better. The man yanked his arm, half dragging him with one hand and keeping the wand on him with another. Rojer cringed in pain as it forced his leg to move, the jolts of agony sending shivers into his mind that threatened to overwhelm him.

"I am leg hurt," Rojer reiterated, gritting his teeth as they reached the stairs but the man paused to look at him. Was he saying it wrong still?

"Don't give me that lie, you broke in and you attacked me and… and you're going to be arrested!" the man snapped at him in a firm tone, his face subtly betraying that he wasn't as confident in his words as he sounded. The meaning of which was hit and miss to Rojer, he thought he was accusing him of lying and attacking him, "Now come on!"

"No!" Rojer cried out in agony as the man pulled him on down the stairs, forcing his leg to bend unbearably and trying to make him move much faster than he was capable. Tears pricked his eyes against the pain his brain was drowning in, "No lie! I- My leg!"

The man ignored him though, continuing to force his leg hurriedly down the stairs and it proved to be far too much for him as the pain overwhelmed. He felt his leg seizing as he collapsed, falling back into blissful pain-free darkness…

Rojer cringed as he returned to consciousness with the pain still pulsating from his leg which was no surprise, he was however surprised to recognize the fact he was lying on a soft, comfortable bed. Wasn't be being dragged down the stairs when he passed out? He also noticed something else strange and downright disturbing, his pants were down. He could feel his legs somewhat colder than the rest of his body because of it, he felt another kind of icy terror grip at his heart. It squeezed his heart painfully as he felt a warm, bony hand touch his thigh. He screamed and swung his fist wildly as he tried to sit up, feeling it connect and whoever he hit along with their cry of surprise.

"NO! DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!" Rojer screamed at his attacker in German then Polish as his eyes quickly took in the scene, he was still in the tower room with the man being the one to touch is leg. Rojer narrowed his eyes, burning rage melting his fear's frozen grip for a moment. Maybe should have killed him, he was hardly an innocent victim if he thought this was okay. He was also an idiot English so he switched to that although he didn't know how to phrase that either, "NO! YOU NO HURT I! NO!"

"I'm not trying to hurt you, I promise," the man assured him, his expression sincere and he held up his hands which held a vial of a silvery liquid he hadn't noticed before. Again, Rojer understand all the words but the gist was about not hurting him and Rojer struggled to believe it, "This will help, it will make you feel better."

"NO!" Rojer barked again in panic, was this some kind of nightmare?!

The man ignored him, grabbing his crippled leg again and pouring the contents of the vial on it which was shockingly cold. Rojer tried to hit him again but the man moved back as soon as he'd poured all the contents of the vial. Now Rojer was scared and confused, the silver liquid had a strange texture as it was thick and shimmering as it started to move into some odd shapes all over his misshapen, deeply scarred leg. He gasped as it started to melt into his flesh, it was freezing cold and uncomfortable just for a moment. The cold seemed to numb the pain, he felt the searing agony easing before fading altogether.

Rojer stared at his leg in shock and ran his fingers over the jagged scars as if to assure himself his leg was still a part of him, he couldn't believe the pain was gone. For the first time since his leg had been crippled when he was nine, there was no pain. He could only gape in awe, still trying to believe the pain was just gone. He supposed he shouldn't be so shocked, it wasn't like anyone had ever tried to ease the pain before so it was plausible it could be treated if anyone did try. What had the man done to him? What was this miraculous magic?

"It's not permanent, it won't last forever," the man said, seemingly satisfied with his reaction and Rojer glanced back to him to see a sympathetic, kind smile aimed at him despite the fact his eye was starting to bruise from Rojer's blow, "I felt so bad for causing you to pass out, that should take the pain away for a bit. You'll need to rest it though still, you're in pretty bad shape my boy. I can get you some food as well, you seem like you could use it. And I won't have you arrested but you should really make better choices, cripples make lousy thieves. So do you want food?"

"Food? Y-Yes," Rojer stammered out as he felt himself relaxing slightly, still struggling for English comprehension. He'd never say not to a meal, he was still hungry. He didn't even know how to thank the man who had risen, tears of relief pricked his eyes. He hadn't realized it was possible to not be in pain, not while you were still stuck being alive anyway, "H-How…?"

"The elixir itself is Alchemy."

"Alchemy," Rojer repeated the intrigue inducing word as the man went through the door, he'd have to look into that.

"I teach it, was here for an interview with Bratuslaw but I don't think I got it," the man continued in a friendly tone even though all Rojer thought he said was that at he taught Alchemy but not as Bratuslaw.

"M-Much… good," Rojer offered, straining his mind for English words and the man gave him another smile as he returned with a bowl of steaming hot soup and some bread. How did you say thank you? Or was he actually dreaming? A lack of pain and someone being this kind was just… the strangest thing ever, it was surreal.

"My name is Rayan by the way, Rayan Fintan," the man introduced himself and pointed to himself after he handed over the food as if to make sure he understood, now being able to say your name was something Rojer knew. The pain was still gone.

"My name is Rojer," Rojer countered readily, not bothering with the last name since he didn't really have one, it was just an alias of his father's. He had one more question before he could devour his food, "Say what is Alchemy?"


	4. F: Pip Varanian - Train Trip

_**Thanks to:** Colin Creevey and green aura for reviewing!_

**_Questions:_**

**_How old is Rayan?_**  
_105, in the flashback he was 32_

**_ Is Rayan ill from old age right now or is it just something else? If old age, why?_**  
_A bit of both, he's not sick because of old age but it has exacerbated it and made it easier to be infected  
_

* * *

_September 1st 1983, (Flashback)_

It was cool, the fiery summer seemed to have burned itself out but the icy tendrils of winter had not slithered in. The overcast sky was rather foreboding, making the empty kitchen seem even darker without the sunlight to bounce of the orange tiles. A lone boy sat there, sitting at the large circular table with a bowl of distasteful porridge before him. He had his head rested on his hand and with the other idly dipping his spoon in, lifting it out and then letting the sludge drip back down into the bowl with the rest.

He didn't like it. Not the porridge or the atmosphere, he remembered the days when the kitchen had been bustling and full of people, full of life. But here he sat alone on one of the most important days in a wizard's life, the day he started Hogwarts. Everyone was either dead or busy and there was just silence, aside from the slight whoosh of his legs swinging under the table because he was too short to reach the floor or the quiet drip of the porridge. He wished his parents were alive to be there.

"Pip!" his grandfather's gruff voice barked and Pip jolted in surprise as he turned to face the grizzled old former Head Auror.

His grandfather was tall like Pip wished he was, his weathered skin course and his face filled with lines. He had a deep scar going from beneath his eye to his chin, the one eye was foggy and blind but the other was a piercing brown that always seemed to bore into his soul. He had thick iron gray hair that fell almost to his shoulders and a near permanent scowl, especially when looking at him. He walked with a cane and a limp but nonetheless and in spite of his advancing age, he always stood strong and radiated power. Pip thought he had to be the most powerful wizard alive, without thinking his hair went gray to mirror his grandfather.

"Don't do that," his grandfather snapped as he yanked the bowl away from him, "We're going to be going through a _muggle_ train station to get to the right platform, muggles are not used to seeing an idiot boy change his appearance like that or a kid your age with gray hair. Control yourself or do I have to get your a hat?"

"I don't want a hat," Pip complained stubbornly as his grandfather dumped his still full bowl into the sink, eying him disapprovingly, "I'm sorry, its just hard to control it."

"Well get better, damn it! If you can't master that in eleven years, how the fuck do you expect to master magic in seven?" his grandfather growled and Pip hung his ashamedly before jolting again as his grandfather banged his cane loudly on the floor, "Come on then, we don't have all day for you to sit around moping and not eating."

"Yes, Grandfather," Pip agreed as he jumped up readily, cringing at the slight sting coming from the soles of his feet. The painful welts were still healing from his last lashing, that's what he got for not going to bed when he was told, "How are we getting there?"

"Apparation."

"Do we have to? I don't like apparation."

"Well bloody get used to it!" his grandfather snapped as he limped through the house, his Hogwarts things were already waiting by the door and he was dressed in his robes already, "You're a wizard, you're going to have to apparate. Now carry your damn owl, I got your trunk."

Pip nodded and did as instructed, finding the cage heavier then he expected and his huge hulking owl immediately bit him unhelpfully and quite painfully. He tried to avoid putting his hands near the bars, sometimes he thought his grandfather had deliberately chosen the biggest, meanest owl he could find just to make things difficult for him. He carried the cage awkwardly out after his grandfather, the old man lazily levitating the trunk with ease as they headed out. His grandfather stopping to lock the door and put up some protective enchantments behind them, you could never be too careful. In his distraction, his owl managed to bit him again.

"Ow!" Pip shot out at the painful bite, trying to shake it off as his grandfather picked the trunk back up magically, "Can't I have the family owl instead of this one?"

"Pip, if you can't handle one bloody bird then how do you expect to handle catching Dark Wizards as an Auror?" his grandfather complained unsympathetically as he started walking again, Pip following, "They don't go quietly."

Pip sighed as they continued on, trudging down through the clearing until they were out of range of the anti-apparation wards. His grandfather stopped abruptly and turned to him, he squeezed his eyes shut in readiness and felt the vice-like grip on his shoulder before he was being painfully forced through a straw until after the longest seconds of his life he was let go. He found he was now in a dingy muggle street with random different colored squiggles climbing the walls, he realized they were rather oddly drawn words.

"Come on!" his grandfather snapped at him and Pip felt the cane strike the back of his head, he shuffled after his grandfather with his head now aching while his grandfather muttered under his breath, "Bloody useless, staring at works of vandalism. Stupid boy."

"I'm sorry," Pip apologized but it was ignored as they continued through the streets, the muggle place looking strange to him with all the metallic different colored boxes scattered around.

They reached Kings Cross in minutes and Pip was grateful as they could get a trolley to push his trunk and owl, much better then having to carry the damn thing. He tried to stay focused on keeping his hair how it was naturally, tawny and scruffy looking as well as keeping his eyes just the one color. He hated it. He didn't like being a metamorphmagus, it was hard to control and he was always being yelled at it for it. Or if he was in the streets people would get excited to see him change and start badgering him with questions or requests, he hated it. It was such a rare condition, why did he have to be unlucky enough to be stuck with it?

"Okay, Pip, you see that wall there?" his grandfather said abruptly, snapping him back to reality and he noticed his grandfather pointing at a wall space between platforms nine and ten. He nodded, "I want you to run at it."

"You want me to run at a wall?" Pip repeated dubiously, wondering if it was some kind of test about naively believing everything you hear. If he ran at the wall he'd just get hurt and look stupid?

"It's how you get onto the freaking platform, you bloody idiot," his grandfather snapped and gestured, Pip glanced back to the wall again just in time to see some people walking through it, "Get a move on!"

Pip bolted, he wasn't going to be told twice and tore through the wall with his trolley so fast he almost hit a woman on the other side. He muttered a quick apology and spun around to take it in, he felt immediately more at ease in a crowd of more magical folk. He also saw the famous Hogwarts Express, lying there like a giant scarlet snake puffing smoke out of its nostrils. He felt his grandfather smack him on the head again to get him moving, leading him over to get his things onto the train. Pip was more then happy to be rid of his owl.

His eyes continued to soak in his surroundings like a sponge however, noticing other children and felt a painful pang in his gut at the sight of the families. Little siblings clinging to the legs of their Hogwarts aged brethren, kids with embarrassed faces wiping off kisses from grandparents, parents hugging their children goodbye. Pip blinked away tears, his own parents were dead. His dad had been alive up until a few months ago, he should be there and there felt like an empty void in his heart where he wasn't. He'd give anything to have his family, those kids should be glad not embarrassed to have people who loved them alive and there for them. They wouldn't be forever after all and no magic could bring back the dead.

"Pip," his grandfather growled and Pip glanced back to the old man, he knew he'd get no hug or kiss farewell, "There's some important things to remember when you're in Hogwarts, first is that you _have_ to make Gryffindor. Do you understand me?"

"What if I don't make Gryffindor?" Pip wondered curiously and his grandfather's eyes narrowed darkly.

"Then I will kill you," his grandfather told him in a quiet threatening tone, his siblings always said he was joking when he said things like that but Pip really wasn't sure. He didn't recall a time when his grandfather joked or even smiled at him, "I may give you a chance with Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw - but I doubt you'll get them, you're too disobedient and stupid - but if you get Slytherin then you will die. Slytherin is the house of prejudice and evil, the majority of Death Eaters went there and a vast amount of Dark Wizards go there. You have bad blood, Pip, if you get Slytherin then there's no hope for you."

Pip nodded absentmindedly, he'd heard it all before even if he didn't really understand how his blood was bad, his best guess was that it was because he was a metamorphmagus. He distractedly noticed a boy his own age he had to do a double take on as he walked by, he had the most interesting face imaginable. His dark chestnut eyes were far apart and at different heights, his nose bulbous and his mouth curved up the side of his face. Large ears jutted out of his extremely dark auburn hair, he also had six fingers of mismatched sizes and lengths on each hand. How unique and cool, Pip wondered what he was like.

"Pip!" his grandfather barked as he felt a stinging slap strike him forcefully across his cheek, Pip rubbed his now pained face as he looked back to him, "Listen to me when I'm talking to you!"

"Sorry," Pip muttered unhappily.

"As I was _saying_," his grandfather growled, "You're not too associate with Slytherins, avoid them as best you can and certainly don't befriend any. In fact, you're only allowed to befriend people who also plan on becoming Aurors to ensure you won't be swayed from your path. Do you understand?"

"What if _no one_ wants to be an Auror?"

"Then you'll have even more time to focus on your studies to become one. I expect you to work hard in classes, Hogwarts is a place of learning not fun. If you're not consistently getting the highest marks and succeeding then you're failing me, I know you're worthless but you're still a Varanian and you'll need to do well to be an Auror. If not then there's no hope for you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Grandfather," Pip nodded, feeling less and less enthusiastic about Hogwarts by the second, "Anything else?"

"No Quidditch, no dating, those are just distractions from your purpose. Which is...?"

"To become an Auror."

"Exactly, you'll probably die in training because you're useless as fuck and will never amount to anything but the important thing is getting there and that starts with graduating Hogwarts," his grandfather explained before clapping him on the shoulder, "Alright then, get on with you."

"I'll try my best," Pip assured him as he started to climb into the train and his grandfather gave a derisive snort.

"Your best isn't good enough," his grandfather scoffed as he limped away, not even bothering to wait until the train was actually leaving like the other parents seemed to be.

Hurt welled in his heart as he started trudging up the train looking for somewhere to sit, he wished his grandfather would love him and be proud of him. He tried to push his own worthlessness aside as he was knocked around accidentally by bigger kids in passing, why did he have to be so damn short? The compartments all seemed to have people in them already.

"Want to see some magic?" a voice inquired.

"I'd love to see magic!" a girl's voice exclaimed excitedly and Pip's eyes drifted to where a girl around his own age was talking to some older boys who were smirking maliciously, she had a mass of brown curls and eyes to match. She was sent flying flat on her face abruptly as one of them jabbed his wand at her feet, tripping her up much to his friends' amusement.

"That's called a Trip Jinx, you filthy mudblood," the boy spat with a smirk and Pip felt his blood boil at the use of such an offensive term.

"Hey! Why don't you pick on someone your own size, you bigoted scum?!" Pip snapped at them as he stepped forward.

The boys turned to look at him in surprise before shrieking with laughter while the girl got to her feet. He supposed his small stature left him looking far from intimidating, the girl was taller then he was but he didn't care. If anything he only felt angrier, he wasn't going to back down just because he was small. If he did then he'd never be a good Auror and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to be an Auror, he was still a Varanian. And his grandfather had starting teaching him magic already.

"Want to see some magic?" Pip questioned and the lead boy smirked as he raised his wand but Pip was faster, just as he'd been taught he whipped out of his wand and jabbed it fiercely with practiced accuracy at the boy, "_Flipendo!_"

The narrow corridor seemed to explode with a burst of blue light and there was a rush of air as the spell launched at the teenager, he cried out in surprise as the jet struck him. His body was thrown into the air like a rag doll, being knocked violently several feet back while Pip stood firm. The boys' friends immediately rushed to him while Pip lowered his wand with a smirk, feeling rather satisfied with himself.

"That was freaking awesome but err... did you have a plan for when he gets back up and curses the crap out of you?" a voice asked with concern and Pip blinked in surprise, turning to his right to see the deformed boy poking his head out of the compartment.

"Of course," Pip scoffed to try hide the fact he was lying, the boy looked at him expectantly while the bully got to his feet looking enraged. He didn't really know much more spells he could to help him in this situation now, "Run!"

Pip grabbed the girl's hand to lead her away as they bolted, tearing back through the train while jets of magic crashed around them forcing him to duck and doge the lights he saw on the edges of his peripheral vision. They reached the end of the carriage and he slammed the door shut behind them, quickly flicking his wand at it as he said another spell.

"_Colloportus!"_

He didn't think it would hold them for long, not if they could do a nonverbal Trip Jinx but it might buy them precious time. He grabbed the girl's hand again and they continued racing breathlessly through the same, the curses sailing after them returning in a minute so he did the same on the next carriage. And the next, they weren't showing signs of slowing down though. Finally he pulled the girl into an empty compartment and started changing his form, turning himself into a dark-skinned boy with an afro who was taller then himself. The door burst open and he quickly stood in front of the girl to hide her, wedging her into a corner while the bullies looked in.

"You didn't happen to see a scrawny runt and a mudblood run by here by any chance?" the bully questioned out of breathe and Pip shook his head vigorously, the boy swore and ducked back out, "Keep looking!"

"Oh my god, how did you do that?" the girl questioned in amazement as Pip finally breathed a sigh of relief and let his appearance shift back to normal, he closed the door firmly and pulled down the blinds.

"Do what?" Pip wondered as he sat down panting by the window, the girl sitting opposite.

"All of it! You're amazing, that's so cool," the girl blurted out excitedly but Pip just shrugged it off, the boys were still looking for him so he hadn't done that great, "Will I learn how to do that?"

"The spells yes but not changing your appearance, I can only do that because I'm a metamorphmagus."

"Can I be a metamorphmagus?"

"No, its something your born with," Pip stated the obvious quite irritably, "Everyone in the wizarding world knows that."

"Until a few months ago, I didn't even know there was a wizarding world," the girl admitted and Pip recalled she was a muggle-born, of course she wouldn't know.

"Oh right, yes of course you wouldn't know. Sorry," Pip apologized and the girl shrugged.

"It's okay, I guess I'll learn this stuff. And thanks you know, it was really sweet of you to stick up for me like that," the girl offered and Pip felt himself blush as she smiled at him, "My name's Ethel by the way. Ethel Embry."

"Pip," Pip said and she raised an eyebrow.

"Just Pip?"

"Well Philip Jareth Kenyon Varanian is my full name," Pip pointed out.

"Alright, Pip it is," Ethel decided with another smile, apparently deciding it was easier to say and he returned her smile slightly.

"I don't suppose you want to be an Auror when you grow up, do you?" Pip asked his potential friend and Ethel looked immediately confused.

"What's an Auror?" Ethel wondered curiously. _Well._.. Pip supposed if she didn't know what an Auror was then he couldn't _really_ fault her for it.


	5. IV: Brutus Ashain - A Ticking Clock

_Late December 2020, (IV: Chapter 10)_

Brutus entered his bedroom anxiously, feeling rather stressed at the thought of something being wrong with his brother. Plus all the stuff with Scepter and the war and all but Atticus still trumped his concerns, always he still loved his family. Apparently his father had also remarried, he would be happy for him but the fact his new bride was a Weasley did mean she was on Sal's hit list. He was hoping she'd be willing to spare her if she joined their side willingly eventually like his father would, he thought his father deserved some happiness.

His lover was already there, Salazia Riddle the Shadow Master, daughter of Voldemort, heir of Salazar Slytherin and descendant of Herpo the Foul. But to him, she was just Sal. She was beautiful, slender with her pale skin making her large, dark eyes more prominent while night black hair hung down to her shoulder in dark waves. She was dressed in black silk pajamas, sitting cross-legged on the bed staring off the side at a clock she was hovering there because… he really had no idea why.

"Hey," Brutus greeted her when she didn't acknowledge his presence, he removed his cloak and tossed it over the chair at the dresser by the door, "I'm back."

"I noticed," Sal offered without taking her eyes from the clock.

"Are you alright?" Brutus asked gently as he sat onto the bed beside her, catching the scent of her perfume.

"Don't jinx me, Brutus," Sal hissed at him, briefly taking her eyes off the clock to shoot him a dark look before turning back to the clock.

"Okay…" Brutus said slowly in confusion and took off his boots, glancing back to see her still staring at the clock. He clambered over to her and wrapped his arm around her, she relaxed slightly against him but didn't remove her eyes from the clock, "Can you at least tell me what's with the clock?"

"You don't know?" Sal scoffed as she turned to him but her expression softened and she sighed, "I'm pregnant, Brutus."

"I'm aware," Brutus pointed out truthfully, also slowly and put a hand to her stomach gently even though it was far too soon for her to show or him to be able to feel anything.

"I've been pregnant twelve times, nine miscarriages in the first trimester, two in the second and… and E-Eva was stillborn," Sal told him and a vase shattered as she spoke of their dead daughter, it was still a painful subject and he felt a sad pang of sorrow at the memory as well. She gestured and he saw the vase repair itself while he rubbed her shoulder soothingly, "That means nine out of twelve ended in the first trimester, three quarters of my past pregnancies so logically there's a seventy-five percent chance that I'll miscarry again in the first trimester but if we get past it then the worst is over and odds are our baby will be okay."

"Alright. And that has to do with staring at the clock because...?"

"Because tomorrow I'll either be into the second trimester or I won't be pregnant anymore," Sal pointed out anxiously as she averted her gaze downward, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable, "I'm scared of losing it again."

"Well staring at a bloody clock is not going to help," Brutus insisted and plucked the thing out of the air, tossing it to one side before holding her close to comfort her, "I know it's hard, Sal, I'm scared of something going wrong as well but you can't think like that."

"How can I _not_ think like that?" Sal wondered and sighed as she hugged him back tightly, "Why is it so much easier to take life then to make it? I can do so much _beyond_ what mere mortals can do with magic and that's not even counting what I'll be able to do once I get the Scepter but I can't keep a child alive inside me like so many people can do with so little effort?"

"It's not your fault," Brutus assured her with certainty and guiltily, "Whatever's wrong is clearly my fault."

"Aw sweetheart, there's nothing wrong with you," Sal insisted as she pulled away to caress his cheek lovingly, "You're perfect just how are. And you're getting me pregnant, you're doing your job."

"Sal, you do realize I'm _deformed_ right?" Brutus pointed out and Sal folded her arms disapprovingly, "I'm serious. Just because you don't mind, it doesn't make me any less deformed. You do understand that regular people aren't supposed to look like me, don't you? It's abnormal to look like I do, to have six fingers or four toes or three balls."

"I _understand_," Sal confirmed with a roll of her eyes, "But I don't care, you're perfect just how you are. I have a handsome husband."

"You also do understand that saying we're married does not make us married, right? That's not how marriage works, you need a wedding and people to be there-"

"Hey, I agreed with you about the deformity even though I think you're handsome, don't push your luck criticizing our marriage," Sal said testily but not unexpectedly, he'd leave that lost cause for another way.

"My point," Brutus picked up from where the conversation had gone off track and took her hands in his, she immediately intertwined her fingers with his as he knew she loved to do, "Is that being deformed _is_ something wrong with me and it's more likely that could affect our children and cause problems then you."

"I guess," Sal sighed, "Really it doesn't matter whose fault it is anyway, it just matters we can get through it. I'm going to responsible for a lot of death, destruction and pain in order to take over the world which I know bothers you but I want to be responsible for a lot of good as well because the world will be better when I rebuild it for future generations. I guess I just keep feeling like, how can I do that if I can't give birth to one live child? Our child, who I love and want to protect, that I want to live, to hold in my arms, to see grow up. I hate feeling so powerless like this."

"Well maybe it's thirteenth time lucky, eh?" Brutus commented gently and held her close again.

"Time will tell, we just have to wait and see if I'm still pregnant in the morning."

Brutus got changed into his pajama bottoms and they got into bed, cuddled up against each other. He liked those times, when he could pretend they were just a normal couple in love and expecting not Soul Eaters trying to take over the world. He held her in his arms through the night, the both of them anxiously drifting in and out of sleep. It all turned out to be wasted worry though as when the rose in the morning, she _was_ still pregnant.


	6. F: Atticus Ashain - Oh Mother

_**Thanks to:** Lucifersdaughter, Guest, RandomGerman and Colin Creevey for reviewing!_

**_Questions:_**

**_Three balls really?_**  
_Yep_

**_Would he (Enoch) really have killed him (Varanian)?_**  
_For getting Slytherin, yes_

**_I'm guessing she miscarried because they were girls and Brutus is an Ashain? _**  
_It because of One trying to use them to be born/live, it failed spectacularly and caused her to miscarry_

**_Am I reading the chapters correctly?_**  
_Yes, in the title it has the book numeral its from (I = Blood Runes, II = Call of the Dark, III = Werewolf Army, IV = Scepter of Night, V = Son of Voldemort, VI = Crux of the Alchemist, VII would be book 7 and IIX would be book 8 when we get to them) or F if its a flashback as well as who's POV it is. The specific date and chapter (when applicable) is at the top of the entry itself as well_

**_Is her soul still gray as of Book 6 and is it getting darker if it is?_**  
_Yes, its darker then book I but still gray_

* * *

_October 27th 1980, (Flashback)_

Little Atticus lay curled up in his bed, sleeping easily and dreaming of the days when he lived in his nice comfortable home when his father and brother were there. He was jolted abruptly awake by the sound of a blaring noise, the six year old practically fell out of bed in surprise. He blinked his dark chestnut eyes and rubbed his head as he stood, sending his extremely dark auburn hair even into utter disarray. The noise was still there, a deafening wailing sound. How was he supposed to sleep with that racket?

Atticus frowned and tiptoed over to the door, he opened it a crack and jumped back as the loud sound leaped out at an even higher volume. What was going on? He headed down, trying to find his way downstairs. They were always moving and he found it hard to keep track, they had to do important things to help the war or something. That was what Mother said anyway, Atticus didn't really understand it all.

He got reached downstairs and found his mother ushering the people that was staying with them into the funny looking cabinet that he wasn't supposed to touch, the muggle-borns that they were protecting were apparently allowed though. Random people called 'muggle-borns' were always staying with them as well, he found them hard to keep track of as well but he was allowed to play with any kids until they inevitably left. As Atticus approached, he realized they were going into it and not coming back. His mother didn't notice him so he had to go right over to her, she was tall with streaming golden hair.

"What's happening, Mother?" Atticus wondered curiously as he tugged on her sleeve, she looked down at him with her amber eyes, "What is all the noise?"

"In a minute, Atty," his mother brushed him off as she focused on the people going into the cabinet and muttering thanks in passing, Atticus waited impatiently before finally the couple with the baby went through, "Alright, that's the last of them."

"_Mother_," Atticus whined and she sighed as she whipped out her wand, waving her wand and the noise stopped, "What's going on?"

"The Death Eaters are coming, I just need to do this quickly and then we're leaving ," his mother told him distractedly and jabbed her wand at the cabinet, it transfigured into a bracelet that she then slipped onto her wrist before scooping him up, "Alright, sweetheart, let's go."

Atticus nestled his head into her neck tiredly, happy to slip back into sleep as she started walking away. There was a loud bang and his eyes snapped back open again, just in time to see the door being blown off its hinges. His mother was already waving her wand with her free hand and turning to put him further away from the three figures emerging from the door, masked figures in dark robes. He screamed in terror as the room was suddenly filled with flashes of light as the newcomers brandished their own wands, he buried his face in her neck and clung to his mother tightly as he tried not to cry.

Without warning, he was thrown back along with his mother while her wand was knocked from her hand. His mother hit the ground and he was flung from her grip, he bounced painfully off the floor. He saw his mother lunge for her wand but one of the newcomers jabbed his wand at her hand before she touch it, there was a sickening cracking sound and her hand jerked abruptly in a way it wasn't supposed to as she screamed. The man to fire it stomped down on the hand violently, causing a further crunch and his mother gritted her teeth.

"Run, Atty!" his mother hissed at him suddenly.

Atticus obeyed without question the way she'd told him he had to since the war was so serious, he scrambled to his feet and tried to run back upstairs where he could hide. Or find the owl and send it to get help, he didn't quite know how it worked. One of the figures rushed forward and they were faster, he blamed their longer legs as the man roughly grabbed him.

"You ain't going nowhere, boy," the man growled at him, keeping his arm held firmly in a vicelike grip.

Atticus quivered fearfully, not understanding why these people were here and why they hurt his mother's hand. The third one summoned a chair over from the dining table and the man standing on his mother's hand hauled her to her feet, he then shoved her roughly into it and waved his wand to conjure robes to bind her hands to the chair behind her back. His mother glared at him murderously while another masked figured came in from the other door.

"The rest of the house is clear,"

"Where are the mudbloods?" the man asked of her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," his mother insisted and through the mask, Atticus saw the man's eyes narrow.

"What should we do with the kid?" the one holding him questioned and the one questioning his mother glanced back to him.

"Where are the mudbloods, kid?" the man asked of him instead.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Atticus mimicked his mother's answer, he didn't even know what a 'mudblood' was.

"Now the dumb kid I actually believe but _you_ on the other hand," the man stated as he turned back to his mother, "I'm giving you one last chance before we start torturing you."

"Torture me all you want, you're just wasting your own time," his mother scoffed determined before spitting at him, "Death Eater scum."

"Alright, you asked for it," the man shrugged and flicked his wand at her, "_Crucio_."

The effect was instantaneous, Atticus didn't know what was happening but in the next instant his mother was screaming. And screaming. And screaming. And _screaming_. Her body twisted and writhed against the chair she was bound to terrifyingly, abruptly the man lowered his wand and his mother slumped in her seat breathing heavily.

"Want to tell me where the mudbloods are now?" the man questioned of her.

"Never," his mother still spat determinedly and the man raised his wand.

"No!" Atticus cried, earning a look of surprise, "Don't, please don't hurt Mother anymore!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, does it bother you when I torture Mummy?" the man asked of him in a more amicable tone, Atticus nodded vigorously.

"Yes!"

"Well in that case…" the man started to say and flicked his wand, summoning another chair over and placing it facing his mother. He then plonked Atticus down on the chair, "Have a front row seat! _Crucio!_"

The man stabbed his wand at his mother once more and her screams exploded again into the night, over and over. Atticus felt horrible, he couldn't do anything to help her, he couldn't even look away or they'd force him to look back. He wanted to cry, he didn't even know why they were doing this. Couldn't he see that was hurting her? Didn't it bother them? Why weren't the others helping his mother from the mean one? They'd only stop briefly to ask her the same question but she always gave the same answer so they hurt her again.

"This is getting us nowhere," one of the others said finally and the torturer lowered his wand again, freeing his mother from the horrible spell as she slumped forward again. Her screams continued to echo in Atticus' mind though.

"I noticed that," the torturer growled and his eyes slowly shifted to Atticus, through the mask the edges of his lips curled into a smile, "You have an uncommonly high tolerance to pain, Cassia Starsen."

"Or maybe you're just weak and terrible at torturing at people," his mother quipped as she lifted her head weakly, the man angrily punched her across the face so hard her head snapped to the side but his mother only laughed, "You hit like a girl!"

"Shut your mouth you filthy blood traitor," he spat and struck her again, "You may be good at resisting but what about your son?"

"What?" his mother questioned, the briefest flicker of concern crossing her eyes as she glanced back to him.

"Tell me where the mudbloods are or I turn my wand on your son," the man said threateningly and Atticus felt fear slowly seeping into his heart as the man raised his wand to him instead of his mother, his mother swallowed.

"He's pureblooded, you know?"

"His mother's a blood traitor though so I don't care. Question is, do _you_?" the man stated calmly and his mother's expression became very stoic, "Tell me where those mudbloods are."

"I won't," his mother whispered after a long pause.

"_Crucio_."

The pain was worse than anything Atticus could've imagined, worse than the time he'd hit his head running into the table playing with Brutus or the time he'd skinned his knee. Every fiber of his small body suddenly felt as if it had been cast alight in burning flames, tearing through him inside and out while every inch of his flesh was bored into by invisible blades. Every second was agony and he screamed uselessly against it, at some point he'd fallen of the chair but he was in too much pain to notice as he writhed to try escape the pain. He screamed even after his throat felt hoarse, he sobbed uncontrollably and begged desperately for it to stop, for his mother to help him. She did nothing.

Finally he was let go from the horrible curse, waves of residual pain continued to course through his tortured, trembling body but it was fading and more bearable. He curled himself protectively into a ball on the ground as he continued to cry quietly, his tears stinging his eyes as his young mind tried to wrap itself around what it had just been put through. He hadn't known it was possible to feel so much pain, it still hurt. What had he done? What had he done to deserve _that_? He was a good boy, he did what Mother told him to… _almost_ always.

"Are you happy now?" his mother spat at the man, "You tortured a child for no reason, I told you I wouldn't talk."

"Does your own flesh and blood really mean that little to you?" the man countered and Atticus yelped in pain as he felt a sharp kick to his abdomen, he forced himself to crack open his eyes to see that horrible man who'd tortured him was the culprit and he was aiming his wand at him again, "_Crucio!_"

He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, he wanted to wake up now or be somewhere else or someone else or just _anything_ to not be here right now. It did no use as the agony ignited once more, he couldn't stop screaming. It was unbearable, he felt as if the pain was breaking him apart inside. Why was this happening? What was he doing wrong? Why was his mother not helping him? Did he really mean little to her like the mean man said? Didn't she see how much pain he was in? Was he the only one who noticed this spell hurt people?!

He was let go once more and collapsed into a sobbing ball, he didn't understand, he didn't understand why this was happening to him. He risked a look at the adults, seeing the stern impression on his mother's face made his heart hurt in a different way. Did she really not care he was hurting? Was she disappointed he wasn't being stronger like she was?

"Where are the mudbloods?" the man asked slowly and carefully for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

"I'm _not_ telling you," his mother insisted again, her tone unwaveringly firm. Apparently this mudblood thing was super important.

The man raised his wand to Atticus again threateningly, he quailed in absolute terror at the spell coursing through him again and felt a warm liquid seeping into his pajama bottoms. His torturer lowered his wand abruptly and burst into laughter.

"Hey everyone, kid's so pathetic he just pissed his pants!" the torturer announced and pointed, the others also exploded into laughter and Atticus felt his cheeks burning in humiliation. Without warning, the man launched a violent kick at him. Atticus yelped in pain and clutched at his privates in agony while the man hawked and spat on his face, his mother didn't even bat an eyelid, "And you call your kid a pureblood?"

The man seemed to have thought of something else though as he roughly grabbed Atticus despite his whimper of fear and threw him back onto the chair facing his mother, he then pulled his fist back and struck Atticus so hard he almost fell off the chair. He was surprised he could still see with his eye stinging so much, he turned his head back to the torturer and was again striking him violently. And again. And again. He heard a crack and his nose exploded in agony, blood spewing down from it. And again. And again. He felt his tooth ripped painfully from his jaw and watched it sailing through the sky. The blows rained down on his body, pummeling him relentlessly until he felt as if his skull was so badly beaten it throbbed inside and out. He could barely see out of his swollen eyes, he could feel blood trickling down his nose and mouth, he tasted the coppery substance on his tongue too.

"_Look_ at him," the man insisted, yanking his hair roughly to force him to look at his mother. Her face remained unwaveringly stoic and he felt hurt churning in his gut, did she really not care? Was he that bad she didn't care? Did she not love him because he was being weak? "Look at your son's face. See the damage? See he's hurt, see he's in pain. Doesn't it bother you? Your own son is suffering. Don't you want it to stop? Don't you want to tell us where the mudbloods are? Is protecting that filth really more important than protecting your very own child?"

"I'm not telling you," his mother reiterated once more.

The torturer gave a growl of frustration and started punching him with renewed fury, this time going for his body as well. Finally he hit him so hard that Atticus did fall off the chair, hitting the floorboards painfully but it didn't stop the man. He started kicking him instead, his heavy boots smacking into his ribs time and time again he started to hear cracks then it just became painful to even breathe so instead the man started targeting his fleshy abdomen. Atticus feared he might be kicked so hard the man's boot would go through him, his stomach churned from the repeated blows to it.

It culminated in Atticus vomiting onto the floor, his bile tasting like acid in his throat. It took him a second to realize the blows had stopped, he waited for the waves of pain to dissipate like they did from the spell but it didn't. His small broken body continued to ache all over. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his head as the man stomped painfully down on his cheek, shoving his face into his pile of puke. He kept it there roughly and Atticus could feel the grooves of the soles of his shoes engraving themselves into his face, he could also smell the sickly stench of the vomit his face was pressed into.

"You see that disgusting puke?" the man told him darkly, "You're less than that, you're worse than that. You're a pathetic excuse for a human being, your mother doesn't even care about you."

"Feel free to chime in at any time to spare him," one of the others said while Atticus picked his eyes up to his mother, her expression still blank. He choked on a sob, the bad people were right. He was so worthless she didn't care anymore, saving other people were more important. Wait, did mudbloods mean the muggleborns?

"I'm not telling you," his mother insisted for the final time, the torturer gave a cry of rage and jabbed his wand at her again sending her screaming and convulsing from the torturing curse.

"_Avada Kedavra_," the torturer said.

Atticus felt a chill from the words he didn't understand and there was a rush of green light that seemed to reach ever corner of the large open plan room, it struck his mother and she was thrown back from the chair. Her bonds broke and she fell to the ground, still and unnaturally unmoving with her mouth still frozen in a scream while her eyes... Her eyes stayed open unblinkingly yet somehow, they didn't look like they were seeing. He didn't know why she wasn't moving or trying to do anything now she was free, she didn't even look like she was breathing but... People needed to breathe to be alive. Didn't they?

"We weren't going to get anything out of her," one of the other stated with a shrug, seemingly approving.

"Mother?" Atticus wondered quietly, fearfully and the man removed his foot from his face. Instead he pointed his wand into it, Atticus quivered in terror wondering what he was in store for him next. Suddenly the man barked a laugh though, a cruel, chilling laugh before he lowered his wand and instead kicked him again.

"You're not worth the time it takes to say the spell, you're _that_ pathetic," the torturer said and spat on him once more before the three left

Atticus lay there for a minute trembling as agony continued to pulse through his veins, hardly daring to believe it was finally over. They seemed gone though. He blinked away tears and tried to stand, he staggered forward and fell though. It hurt to move. Instead he crawled tearfully over to his mother, she had to be alive. People didn't just die in real life. It only happened in stories, real people _couldn't_ die. His mother couldn't die, she wasn't the kind of person who died. She was so strong and powerful and... alive.

"Mother?" Atticus queried again in a croak as he reached her but she didn't respond, she just lay there unnaturally still. He choked on a sob, she _couldn't_ be dead. Not his mother. He shook her gently, "Mother? Mother, wake up. Mother? Please, I'm sorry. The bad people are gone now though, they didn't get the mudbloods. Mother? Mother, please wake up. I'll be better, just wake up. Just please wake up, Mama."

Nothing. Atticus felt tears trickle down from his eyes, he shook his head in disbelief that she could be dead. Maybe the spell just put her into a weird sleep, maybe. Spells could do that, right?! She couldn't die! Not _his_ mother, not her. He lay down beside her, his battered body drained and nestled against her as his heavy, swollen eyes closed. He'd just lie down and rest until the pain went away, he'd wait with his mother until she woke up.

She never did.


	7. F: Annie Thorne - A Day in the Life

_**Thanks to:** Guest, Colin Creevey, Geminia Riddle and green aura for reviewing!_

**_Questions:_**

**_Where is his (Atticus') dad n Brutus anyway?_**  
_They're back in the Ashain mansion. Cassia left Aurelius and took Atticus, he couldn't so anything about it_

**_How cld Atticus name his daughter after such filth?_**  
_Because she let her son suffer for the sake of protecting multiple innocent muggleborns and their families, Atticus focuses on the good and feels she was right and his life isn't as valuable as theirs. He loved his mother _

**_How was he found? Did Aurelius come for him?_**  
_When the muggle-borns didn't hear from Cassia they told the Ministry who sent a team to search the house, they found him and he was returned to Aurelius_

**_Did Atticus ever stay with... Corvinus?_**  
_Yes, Aurelius never moved out of the mansion so Atticus and Brutus grew up there with him and Aurelius' parents_

**_So One was the responsible for them (miscarriages) huh?_**  
_Yes, it was trying to latch onto them to be born which failed and just caused her to miscarry_

**_Ain't it funny that the 13th try were twins, a boy and a girl? Btw, the twins are almost 2 years old right?_**  
_They were both male actually so they're non-identical twin boys called Lazarus and Omega. And yes, they turn two on June 4th_

* * *

_February 19th 1998, (Flashback)_

"So to work out the hypotenuse of the right-angled triangle, we have to use Pythagoras' Theorem, named after the Ancient Greek mathematician Pythagoras who is credited at first discovering it. The equation we need to use is…"

Annie Thorne fidgeted and zoned out distractedly as her teacher continued speaking, wondering how Pythagoras had figured this out. What possessed someone to invent equations? Who even cared about the lengths of triangles? Why had he deemed that important? He was in Ancient Greece where they had cool battles and myths and stuff, plus actually good weather. Why waste time inventing equations for triangles?

Ah crap she was supposed to be paying attention… Was that a squirrel? Annie's gaze shifted to out of the window, it was just a bird not a squirrel. Actually she preferred birds to squirrels, they were like rats with fluffy tails. She really needed to stop sitting by the window, it was distracting. Or just get better at concentrating, dammit! She tried to glance back to the teacher but her eyes were drawn back to the window as if pulled by a magnet, it was a gloomy day outside. It wasn't even a nice view she had, mostly just the drab gray playground or whatever it was called. The sky was overcast, dark clouds floating ominously overheard.

Aside from the usual ominous feeling she had anyway, she didn't know why but she just a gut feeling lately that something was wrong, like in an itch in the back of her mind that not all was well in the world. It was crazy maybe but then crazy stuff had a habit of happening around her, contributing to her unpopular status as a freak. She thought it might rain. She hoped not as she started drumming her fingers on the desk while leaning on her hand in the other, she knew her younger brother Jack had PE today. She wondered if he was staring out of the window distracted and bored like she was, probably not because he wasn't stupid. Her dad wouldn't be either, he probably wasn't even awake yet.

"THORNE!" Mrs Fantrump barked and Annie jolted and surprise, seeing the middle-aged woman tapping impatiently on the board with a ruler where she'd drawn up a diagram and triangle, letters and numbers, equation type things. How long had she been staring out of the window? Why did this woman bombard them with information so fast? She needed time to absorb it.

"Yes, Miss?" Annie queried innocently and she tapped the board again.

"Since you apparently are so confident in your work you have all day, maybe you could tell me the answer like I've been asking you for the past five minutes!"

"I was working out the answer," Annie scoffed, lying easily while her mind frantically tried to make sense of the scrawl on the board. It may as well have been written in bloody Ancient Greek for all she knew though, "But if I know the answer then what is the question?"

"What is the length of the hypotenuse?!" Mrs Fantrump snapped and Annie tried to ignore the snickering from some of her classmates at her getting in trouble.

"The… length… of… the… hyp-ot-en-use… is…" Annie said as slowly to buy herself time but she still had nothing, "Seven?"

"C squared. In the equation the length of the hypotenuse is C squared," Mrs Fantrump explained disapprovingly, earning more snickering, "Please _try_ to pay attention, Annie, you'll never get anywhere in life with your atrocious attitude. This is high school now, you have to try harder."

"I _was _trying…" Annie insisted under her breath while Mrs Fantrump went back to speaking.

Annie sighed and was glad when she set them some work, least it excused her from having to listen. She fidgeted restlessly and started scribbling down the questions, her lack of attention did mean she had no idea how to solve them now. She thought Mrs Fantrump was wrong, she never was going to get anywhere in life – she didn't doubt that for a second – but she didn't think her attitude was the worst of her problems. She was dumb as mud with her grades averaging between Ds and Cs because she could never focus, she sucked at sports too.

She was small for her age, the fact all of her uniform was too big for – she'd literally bought it off a girl who was leaving the previous year, they had no more use for it and she figured it was better she could grow into it - her didn't help. Except her shoes that had the opposite problem of being too small, they were falling apart. It didn't help her win any popularity contests. She idly swung her feet under the chair as they didn't touch the ground, she guessed her way through the answers and started doodling stick figures warring over the numbers. Until she felt something small and wet hit her in the back of the neck, she pulled it away quickly and saw it was a spitball. She threw a glare back but saw no obvious candidates.

Annie returned to the stick war that dominated the double page before feeling the exact same thing happening again, this time she spun faster and saw it was a boy a few rows behind and to the right of her. He hastily went back to pretending to work, snickering with the girl next to him. Annie didn't know how to do a spitball but she'd be damned if she was just going to let this happen, instead she ripped out a blank page, scrunched it up and threw it him. It bounced perfectly off his head and he looked up in annoyance.

"Miss, Annie threw something at me!" he whined and threw his arm in the air, earning her a glowering look from their teacher.

"Annie-"

"He started it!" Annie protested and jabbed a finger at him accusingly, "He was spitting spitballs at me!"

"I did not!" he lied indignantly.

"Yes you did! I saw you!"

"If he was doing that then you wouldn't see it, duh," the girl next to spoke up in his defense, "Besides I'm sitting him and I haven't seen him do it, he's been getting along with his work like we're supposed to be."

"You're a liar."

"Annie!" Mrs Fantrump snapped, "We don't call people mean names."

"It's not a mean name it's a noun, someone who lies is a liar," Annie insisted stubbornly and truthfully, "She's calling me the same thing just with more words. You can't really be buying her crap? Of course she's going to lie."

"Annie! Language!"

"What? So liar is a swear word now? That's bullshit."

"ANNIE!" Mrs Fantrump yelled angrily again as she strode over to her before catching sight of her book, she picked it up, "What is this?"

"My work," Annie stated the obvious through gritted teeth.

"You've drawn all over it."

"But I answered the questions first," Annie said truthfully and pointed it out to her, she didn't look impressed.

"This is unacceptable. And all your answers are wrong," Mrs Fantrump informed her and Annie resisted the urge to sigh while her class snickered behind her, "If you need help, you need to ask for it."

"If I ask for help you get mad at me and say I should have been paying attention!"

"Well you should have been!" Mrs Fantrump insisted angrily and dropped the book back down as the bell rang to signal the end of class, "Annie, you can join me for detention after school."

"For what?!" Annie demanded in frustration.

"Everything!" Mrs Fantrump shot back seeming frustrated as well as she stalked off, dismissing the class.

Annie groaned irritably and shoved her things back into her bag which was also falling apart, she slung it over her shoulder as she filed out of the class with others. The spitball boy making a point of knocking into her deliberately, one of his friends doing the same. And now her delight at only having one class left was ruined by the fact she'd be subjected to detention after it, some way to spend her twelfth birthday. Not that it really mattered she supposed, it had been a long time since her birthday had been celebrated or even remembered.

"I know, right? Is Annie stupid or what?" the girl was saying to her friends to which they laughed, "Ugly too, it's no wonder she doesn't have any friends or fashion sense."

"Hey! Shut up!" Annie snapped at her as she lurched forward, the taller girl smirking at getting a reaction out of her, "You think you're better than everyone else but you're not, you're just a prissy stuck up bitch and you may be smarter than me, more talented, have better things, be more popular and be better looking but I…"

"Yes?" the girl prompted but Annie drew a blank.

"I…" Annie started again but trailed off, struggling to think of any positive attribute she had. The girl and her friends walked away laughing.

Annie trudged unhappily off to her final class, still distractedly trying to think of something good about herself. Niceness? No, Annie had a habit of rubbing people the wrong way and she had called her a prissy stuck up bitch not an hour ago. Well she _was_ but that was besides the point, Annie didn't consider herself a nice person. Nope, she got nothing. The class concluded and Annie had to backtrack back to Mrs Fantrump for her detention, creatively having to write out lines. Finally, she was done though and school was finally through for the day. She really hated school.

"Hey, Thorne! Enjoy your detention?" an older boy who also bullied her called out, he was hanging around with his friends who had likely came from a detention themselves and were looking to alleviate their boredom by taking it out on her. She did her best to ignore them and walk on by, "Didn't Mummy teach you manners? Oh wait, your Mummy's dead."

"Hey! Shut your face, you fat fuck!" Annie shot out before she could stop herself, "Don't talk about my mother."

"Don't call me fat, you bitch!" he shot back, straightening up and glaring at her at once.

"I can call you whatever the hell I want to call you, Fatty McStupidface," Annie insisted irritably, "It's not like you can waddle after me fast enough on your chubby little legs to stop me."

Bad idea.

He launched himself at her and Annie bolted as the bullies tore after her, she really should learn to keep her mouth shut better. Or learn where she was going as the came to a dead end with a wall of chain fence blocking her. _No, no, no, no, no, no, no_, Annie complained irritably at her mind as she banged on fence, she didn't want to get beat up again.

To her immense surprise, she suddenly found herself falling _through_ the fence. Was there a weak link or… what? She fell to the hard tarmac on the other side and scrambled up in shock as the bullies caught up to her, they banged on the fence in the same place she had been but they didn't fall through like she had. That was… Why did weird things have to happen around her?! She actually thought she'd rather be beat up then worry about her sanity.

"Did you really climb that?" the leader questioned in a tone of surprise, the fence was triple his height at least.

"Yeah, those of us not lumps of lard can climb shit," Annie scoffed her lie with false confidence, his eyes narrowed. For a second she thought he would try it but the heavens opened and a sheet of rain fell down upon them.

"Okay, we're leaving but you're so dead tomorrow," he spat and left with his group while Annie stood alone in the rain.

She pushed at the fence but this time it remained solid, she sighed. Why did she have to be her? She walked off unhappily in the heavy rain, still having to pick up her little brother. Jack was in better spirits, laughing and racing around jumping in puddles.

"C'mon, Jack," Annie prompted and he ran over to her happily, they started off home already soaked to the skin.

"You're late again," Jack pointed out but didn't sound too annoyed.

"I noticed," Annie said dryly while Jack seemed to brighten up, he grinned and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket to shove at her.

"Guess what? I got top marks in my class on my English test, look! See? I got a golden star."

"Well done," Annie praised him, pushing a smile out despite her unhappy mood and folded it back up for him, "You may want to stop it getting drenched though."

"Right," Jack nodded and shoved the now sopping wet paper back into his pocket, "It's so awesome though. You never get good marks and gold stars on your work. Did you notice that, Annie?"

"I noticed that."

"You should try getting them, it's really easy and cool," Jack told her in childish obliviousness to the fact it wasn't so easy for her.

He continued chatting away happily about his day as they got home, he then immediately shot off to play in his room. She was supposed to share a room with Jack but since their father always slept on the couch when he drank himself to sleep she took his and let Jack have theirs. The apartment was small and cramped yet quite sparse, they didn't have much and half of what they did have seemed to be discarded beer bottles or broken junk. It wasn't in a good condition, it wasn't just the paint peeling off the walls but actual bits of plaster revealing the cockroach infested interior. It stank of alcohol and vomit.

Annie sighed and went over to the couch, her father was lying there sucking on a bottle of beer. He was frightfully thin due to barely eating, these days his skin had an unhealthy yellowish tinge to it and he wore only boxers, a sleeveless white shirt and mismatched socks. He didn't bathe much either but his body odor was drowned out by the stench of alcohol and vomit, both of which and other things stained his clothes. He didn't give any sign of noticing she or Jack were there even after saying hello, he just kept pouring the beer down his throat. She watched him sadly for a minute, remembering the days he'd speak to her and play with her, when he'd tuck her in to bed and kiss her goodnight. Annie had ruined it though. Her dance recital, her reason the car had crashed. She'd lost both her parents that way, her dad was just a shell. She'd ruined her own family, her own life. She had no one to blame but herself.

She cleaned up the fresh puke and cleared away the empty bottles before going down to the kebab shop downstairs, she helped out down there and in return got food to be able to feed her as well as money for the rent, her father and Jack. She the rest of the afternoon there aside from a break to bring food upstairs, working in the kitchens then cleaning up there and the bathroom after closing. She then returned to the apartment, hearing Jack bouncing on his bed for some game he was playing while her dad had guzzled his way through several more beer bottles. She went to clean them up and yelled at Jack to go to sleep, wondering how her father could live like that. Did it really make him feel better? He certainly didn't look it.

Annie found actually one of the bottles was only half empty and didn't throw it out with the others, instead returning to her room with it. It consisted of just a bed and built in wardrobes, devoid of the things she saw in rooms on TV. She clambered onto the windowsill that was chipping away, hugging her knees to her chest and staring out on the city. It was dark now, she could see the lights from the buildings. It was still raining too, pouring down and she reluctantly allowed tears to join them. She still couldn't think of a positive quality she had, she had nothing. She was just worthless. A worthless girl who ruined the lives of those she loved.

"Happy birthday, Annie," Annie whispered the words no one had said all day, raising the bottle to clink an invisible one before taking a swig. It tasted like crap but then people didn't drink it for the taste.


	8. III: Gerhard Rutherford - Maybe

_**Thanks to:** RandomGerman and Colin Creevey for reviewing  
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_June 5th 2020, (III: Chapter 15)_

Gerhard Rutherford Flooed home from the Ministry in a foul mood, he hated his job. There was a war going on and he found it unbearably frustrating to be doing such a useless mundane job, nothing he did made a difference, nothing he did mattered. It was itching to do something more, do something useful. His desk felt like a cell half the time, the fact it was all narrow cubicles didn't help shake that impression.

He took a deep breath and counted back from ten to calm himself, trying to let go of his anger. The day was over and done with, now he got to spend a nice relaxing evening with the woman he loved. And Chapter three of 'The Magic of Parenthood: Pregnancy (Book One)' by Prudentia Blahman advised making the most out of the time you and your pregnancy partner had alone together since you wouldn't after the baby was born, the book also said it was also more conducive to the baby's health if your pregnancy partner was in a good mood.

"I'm home!" Gerhard called as he scanned the empty living room for signs of his wife, he didn't see her though.

He scowled as he started to trudge through their Hogsmeade home, he liked it there. It was cozy and comfortable, his wife had brought with her a lot of clutter but he thought that made it feel more lived in. It was still neat of course, all of his wife's little trinkets, ornaments and photographs – and his books - crammed away in the crannies they belonged in. He didn't find his wife though, he glanced outside at the darkening sky. Surely, she was not _still_ at that stupid muggle doctor's appointment? Whatever happened to nine to five working hours? Had something to her? Was she alright? Had she been killed by Shadows?!

He held up a mental hand to calm himself, he was working at being less paranoid. There was nothing to worry about, if she'd been killed then he would've heard about it before he left work. Even if she hadn't been identified as his wife, a heavily pregnant witch who'd been found murdered by Shadows was noteworthy. Besides, they were probably busy gearing up for the next werewolf army attack anyway not killing random muggle-borns. She was fine. There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation why she wasn't home yet. Unless they just hadn't found her body yet…

"I'm home!" his wife's voice called and he practically bolted to get downstairs to assure himself she was indeed home safe and sound.

And she was safely waddling into the kitchen, her usually slender frame warped by her large swollen stomach carrying their first unborn child. He still thought she looked beautiful, she had a long stream of pale golden curls cascading down her back and enchanting emerald eyes set on milky white skin. Maybelle her name was. She was easily the best thing that had ever happened to him, he loved her with all his heart. She smiled when she saw him and he couldn't help but smile back, he hugged her gently.

"Sorry I'm late, Gert," Maybelle apologized as he kissed the top of her head before pulling away with an expression of concern, "I didn't worry you, did I?"

"What? No. Me? I wasn't worried," Gerhard scoffed lied, she cocked her head to one side knowingly, "Maybe slightly."

"You need to relax," she said gently as she caressed his cheek, "Don't worry so much, honey, I just got held up and met my friend so we had a coffee."

"There's a war going on, I can't help but worry," Gerhard admitted reluctantly as he took her hands tenderly, she had such soft slender fingers, "Especially when you take unnecessary risks. We have a Healer, you're in good hands. Why do you insist on seeing a muggle doctor as well? Trust me, I grew up with Healers and Doctors both and in my experience anything a Doctor can do a Healer can do better."

"Not everything," Maybelle insisted before beaming and excitedly abandoning his hands to rummage through her handbag, "Just look at this."

"It's not another novelty paperweight is it?" Gerhard complained, he thought they were a rather ornament but she shook her head.

"No, look," Maybelle said as she seemingly found what she was looking for, a simple piece of paper that she eagerly pushing it into his hands, "Look at it."

"I'm looking, I'm looking," Gerhard muttered as he looked down at the image, a grayish-blue alien blob set in a kind of triangle on a black background. He raised a confused eyebrow at her still smiling face, not sure what he was supposed to be looking, "And this is…?"

"It's our baby," Maybelle explained happily and put a hand to her pregnant belly, "Isn't she beautiful?"

"As far as grayish blobs go, I suppose she is," Gerhard taunted mockingly and she batted his arm playfully.

"I'm serious, Gert, don't you think it's amazing that we can see our daughter before she's born? That we can know it's a daughter, there's no spell for that."

"No," Gerhard scoffed and saw a flicker of disappointment in her face that he didn't share in her enthusiasm, he waved it idly to emphasize what a terrible image it was, "This doesn't even_ look _like a baby, Mayb, if our daughter looks like this I'd be very concerned for her health. What even is the point? We'll be able to get much better pictures when she's actually, you know, born."

"I guess I just can't wait that long," Maybelle said with a kind of half-shrug, "Aren't you looking forward to seeing what she looks like?"

"Hmm…" Gerhard mused and put his free hand onto her stomach as well, rubbing it gently as his mind chewed on the question. He hadn't really thought about it, didn't all babies look the same anyway? "No. What I'm really looking forward to is just holding her in my arms for the very first time."

"Aww, honey, that's so sweet," Maybelle smiled at him and he felt his cheeks burn before she pressed her soft lips against his.

_BANG!_

"What the-" Gerhard burst out in shock as he jolted away from his wife, it sounded like it had come from outside.

"What was that?" Maybelle questioned fearfully, clutching at her swollen stomach protectively.

"I don't know, I'll check it out."

"Be careful."

Gerhard nodded in acknowledgement as he headed for the door, idly shoving the picture into his pocket distractedly to free his hands. He walked out into the cobbled streets and saw others seemed to have had the same idea as him since there was a gathering crowd, he scanned around and spotted something out of place. He could see the ominous dark shape of a man up on some kind of pedestal a few streets away, he was visible over the neat little rows of houses.

"-YOU SHOULD RECOGNIZE MY VOICE, YOU BASTARD!" a voice magically carrying was yelling, it seemed to be the man on the pedestal, "YOU, WHO TOOK MY EYE! I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'RE HERE OR STILL IN THE SCHOOL BUT IF YOU'RE HERE THEN SHOW YOURSELF AND MAYBE I'LL GO EASY ON HIS PLACE! WHAT'S THE MATTER, BOY?! ONLY BRAVE WHEN YOU'RE CURSING OUT SOMEONE'S EYE?! TOO COWARDLY TO FACE THE FUCKING CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR ACTIONS, YOU LITTLE SHIT?!"

"What is happening?!" Gerhard demanded irritably of no one in particular while there was a frightened muttering through the crowd, "Someone answer-"

"It's the werewolf Fenrir Greyback, that's what they're saying," a man close to him hissed fearfully and Gerhard glanced in panic back to the man on the pedestal, the one leading the one leading the werewolf army.

"SO BE IT! DON'T THINK I'M NOT GOING TO FIND YOU, ONLY ONE OF US WILL SURVIVE THIS NIGHT AND IT WON'T BE YOU! I CAN SMELL YOUR BLOOD, YOU'RE MINE!" the man - possibly Greyback - announced as he threw out his arms, "AND AS FOR THE REST OF YOU..."

"Oh no, no, no, no, no," Gerhard muttered under his breath.

His worst fears were already being realized as the full moon started to emerge from the crowds, a perfect backdrop to Greyback as the man's silhouette already started to contort. And not just him, Gerhard noticed in horror that several people in the crowd were also changing. He felt his heart pounding so forcefully it resonated through his whole body, he didn't wait to see them transform as he ran back inside with a long ominous howl chasing after him. He slammed the door shut and jabbed his wand at it, nonverbally casting some protective enchantments. Not that they'd do much to slow those monsters down.

"What's happening?" Maybelle questioned fearfully, he just grabbed her hand and led her to the fireplace while screams drifted in from outside.

"The werewolf army is attacking, we need to leave," Gerhard told her quickly, more focused on her getting her as far away from there as possible. He grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace but the flames didn't turn, he grabbed another and another but they still didn't change color, "Dammit! They must've sealed the Floo Network!"

"C-Can't we just apparate?" Maybelle wondered, her eyes wide with fear as they glanced to the windows where screams and howls could still be heard from outside, "Never mind, I just tried. We can't apparate either."

"It's okay, sweetheart," Gerhard lied and squeezed her hand comfortingly before abandoning her to move to the windows so lock and seal them, "We- We can just barricade ourselves in here and hope help arrives. We're in a village of wizards and witches, I'm sure _someone_ will manage to alert the Ministry somehow and- and help will come. Someone needs to invent an easier way of alerting them, I tell you."

"I-"

Maybelle's sentence was cut off by another boom as the door burst open, she screamed in terror instead. Gerhard ran back over to her as a werewolf rushed into the room, jumping in front of her protectively and jabbing his wand at the beast casting a non-verbal Blasting Curse. There werewolf yelped as it was thrown violently back, Gerhard grabbed his wife's hand once more and led her hurriedly outside.

"Change of plan, inside we're trapped!" Gerhard explained hastily.

He heard the wounded werewolf bounding after them and waved his wand instead at the doorframe behind him, causing part of the ceiling to implode and fall on the beast. He could feel Maybelle's hand shaking inside her own, he squeezed it again to try comfort her while he scanned the chaotic scene erupting around him. Werewolves were attacking people left and right, there were flashes of spell fire and blazes of fire as spells meant to defend set alight their homes – and shops – instead. He had to get his wife out of here.

"G-Gert, I-I'm scared," Maybelle whispered in terror and he glanced at her, her face was now chalk white while tears were dropping down from her eyes.

"It's okay, we'll be okay," Gerhard offered reassuringly and rubbed her shoulder gently, "Just take out your wand, you remember the Blasting Curse?"

"I d-don't… M-My wand is back in the house."

"Okay, never mind then. Just stay with me and I'll protect you, okay?"

"Okay," Maybelle nodded tearfully and squeezed his hand tightly while the other rubbed her swollen stomach.

Gerhard led her away, not sure where he was taking her but he knew they had to leave. He also knew their odds didn't look good, Maybelle was heavily pregnant and couldn't move very fast. He saw the mess around him, the werewolves tearing people apart if they weren't turning them. Damn those Shadow bastards. He couldn't help but notice a high number of teenagers, the Hogwarts kids must've been there for their Hogsmeade weekend. Someone should be protecting them. A part of him felt like he should be helping instead of just trying to avoid the werewolves but his wife and unborn child were his priority, Maybelle kept a tight terrified grip on his hand so he couldn't do anything without dragging her into it or abandoning her.

_Trying_ to avoid the werewolves could only go so far though, inevitably they'd be targeted. For once, Gerhard didn't want to be right but as usual, he was. A large brown werewolf with jaws dripping blood bounded for them, he fired a Blasting Curse at it which blew it back but his curse was too distant and weak to stop it.

"Gert, look out!" Maybelle cried abruptly.

Gerhard turned too slowly to see a second reddish werewolf had already come upon them while he'd been distracted with that one, he tried to turn but it lashed at him violently with its paw. He cried out in pain as its claws caught him, tearing through his shoulder and throwing him back while his wand was knocked from his hand.

As his skull bounced off the cobblestones, he heard Maybelle scream and a werewolf snarl. He tried to grab his wand but the reddish werewolf lunged on him, his leg exploded in pain as he felt its strong jaws dig the daggers it had for teeth into his flesh. He screamed in agony and fear at the thought of turning, desperately clawing in the direction he'd seen his wand to try grab it, the movement causing the werewolf's teeth to tear his leg further.

Finally he grabbed it and practically threw himself back to face the werewolf, slashing a violent Acuta across its face. He yelped and let him go but he slashed it again and again and again, throwing his desperate fury to fuel the spell. The thing scampered away with its face a bloody, matted mess. He didn't give a damn, he had bigger concerns. His wife was still screaming.

Fighting through the pain in his leg, he leaped to his feet and gritted his teeth through the wave of agony it caused to put pressure on the leg. The first werewolf was on his wife, clawing and biting. He slashed at its side with Acuta and got its attention, it abandoned her to run at him. Learning from his mistake, he waited until it was close before moving his wand.

Too close as it leaped before he could curse, lunging at him and landing painfully on its chest. It opened its mouth probably to bite him, he shoved his wand into his mouth and fired a Blasting Curse with all he head. There was a deafening bang and an explosion of blood, its carcass was thrown back off him. It didn't get up and he gave it no more mind.

He still couldn't relax though, his leg had been bitten and he could feel a new kind of pain in his body. He was going to turn, he couldn't let himself become one of those monsters. Mustering as much courage as he could, he used a powerful Severing Charm on his injured leg to amputate it. He screamed, agony ripping through his thoughts as his spell ripped through his leg.

For a second he thought he was going to pass out it was so intense, even when it was over the pain continued to pump through his mind as blood pumped from the stump of his leg. Damn werewolves, damn Shadows, damn everyone involved in his. He fought to stay conscious though, clinging to the thread of thought for his wife and unborn child. He still had to protect them, he felt his heart start to pummel him in panic again.

He turned his head and saw her still lying where he'd seen her, he could hear her rapid, shuddering breaths indicating life. He couldn't get up so instead he had to pull his bleeding body over onto his front and drag himself with his one good arm over to her, each tug sending another wave of pain that threatened to wipe him out of consciousness but Maybelle was his lifeline. He held on for her, a fragment of his mind wondering why she was just lying there.

It was answered when he reached her, he choked on a sob the second he saw how badly hurt she was. There were deep bloody wounds and holes from teeth, she was clutching protectively at her stomach despite the crimson streaming through her arms. It felt like some kind of horrible nightmare he was in, a horror story. Hadn't they just been talking about their unborn baby less than an hour ago? What had happened to that?

"Help," he called out desperately to the people passing them by as he continued to struggle to reach his wounded wife, who he'd been supposed to protect. He'd failed though, he'd failed her, "Please help my wife. Help. Please help."

"G-Gert?" Maybelle choked out weakly as he reached her, her white face stained by a spray of red while her frightened eyes found his. No one was stopping to help.

"I'm here," Gerhard whispered also weakly as he fought to stay awake, feeling the hot tears fall down his face as he cradled her head in one arm and took her hand with his other hand. She squeezed his hand and he soothingly stroked her hair with his other, "I'm here, Mayb, I'm here now. It's going to be okay, we're going to be okay now."

"Ev-Even th-the b-b-baby?"

"Y-Yeah, all three of us," Gerhard lied tearfully as he squeezed her hand so tightly, childishly feeling as if he just held on she'd be okay while logically recognizing the severity of her injuries. She looked to relax slightly as her eyes started fluttering to close, "It'll be okay, it'll all be okay. Less than a month and we'll be holding our b-baby girl, this will all be a memory."

"I'm gl-glad," Maybelle whispered and smiled ever so weakly as her eyes closed, his own head felt like a deadweight and he rested it on her chest while fighting to stay awake still, "Th-That sounds nice…"

"Yeah…" Gerhard muttered as his own eyes closed, dragging him into blissful unconsciousness where everything he loved wasn't dying…

When he opened his eyes next Gerhard found he was now on his back and lying on something soft, he was warm and comfortable, his pain was gone. He was on a bed he realized and from the white indoor surroundings, very definitely not in the streets of Hogsmeade. He sat up in shock, finding that he was indeed in a bed in what looked like a very cramped ward in St Mungo's.

He felt a bubble of hope rise in his mind, if he was okay then maybe someone had stopped to help after all, maybe Maybelle and the baby were alright. He skimmed the beds but didn't see her, he'd seen more people injured then were here though so she must just be in another ward. He swung his legs over the side in readiness to get up only to freeze, one was just a stump. He swallowed shakily as he recalled the painful amputation.

"Hey! Get back in bed," a Healer barked and Gerhard glanced at the robust older man who looked very much in need of rest himself, he had a coarse lined face with angular features and a flat nose. He had striking cyan colored eyes and faded canescent hair hanging around his head, he walked over to him and lay him back down, "You lost a lot of blood, you're still recovering and you need rest so rest."

"No, I need to find my wife," Gerhard insisted desperately and the man infuriated him by rolling his eyes, "Hey! Don't roll your eyes at me, you worthless cur! My wife's important, dammit! I need to find her! I need to know if she's okay!"

"What's her name?" the Healer questioned tiredly as he picked up a clipboard filled with parchment, "Have a list of Hogsmeade victims and their statuses here for ease of finding out about family members."

"Maybelle," Gerhard blurted out, his heart racing as the man started flicking through the parchment, "Maybelle Rutherford. She's my wife, she's heavily pregnant and-"

"I'm sorry," the Healer offered in a slightly more sympathetic tone as he lowered the clipboard while Gerhard felt his heart crumbling away, "Your wife's dead, she was dead by the time help arrived. Nothing could be done."


	9. F: John Avery - Bickering Brothers

_July 11th 1988, (Flashback)_

John Avery sat in the dining room the rather lavish Avery home, crystal chandelier overheard, dark wood curling around the bottom half of the walls matching the floorboards and furniture including the table he sat at. The top half of the walls were sky blue and decorated by dark fleur-de-lis, the colors also carrying through to the upholstery on the chairs. It was all very resolute, everything had a place, it was supposed to all have an air of regal elegance befitting of the proud pureblooded Avery name. John thought it was kind of stuffy.

"John, focus," his tutor chastised him and the seven year old John rolled his eyes as he turned back to his parchment of math sums, scribbling down the last few answers with his quill.

"I'm done them, can I play outside with my brothers now?" John asked as he shoved the paper over towards his tutor, the man picked up the paper and eyed it disapprovingly while John leaned on his arm and drummed the table idly.

"Mediocre at best, your mother shall not be pleased."

"Is she ever?"

"Very well, you may go but we will work more on your multiplication tomorrow. Not to mention to mention posture, sit up straight."

John sat up straighter as he was expected to, the tutor inclined his head in approval and John could eagerly bound away. He hurried through the familiar halls and into the kitchen which had the back door he wanted to get outside, he was surprised to find his two older brothers were actually there rather than outside.

Edwyn Amos Avery III – who went by Amos - was the eldest at eleven, he was due to start Hogwarts in September. He had darker hair like John, their father and grandfather as well as the darker eyes he alone shared with his namesakes. Ezra was the younger at ten, he alone of the three had inherited wavy blondish hair like their mother and like John shared her cerulean eyes. They were both leaning against the counter eating cookies from the jar.

"Hey guys," John greeted them cheerfully as he reached them, "Can I have a cookie?"

"No," Amos scoffed but Ezra handed him one anyway, Amos slinked a scowl at his brother while John took the cookie, "Mother didn't say John could have one."

"Mother's not here," Ezra pointed out with rather poor timing as their mother took that moment to sweep into the room.

"Mother is now," Mother announced but didn't pay them any mind instead heading for the wine rack to select a bottle, she shooed at them with her hands, "Skedaddle. Go on now, go play outside. Mother needs some alone time."

"Yes, Mother," the three chorused and made to leave, however she snatched the cookie out of John's hand.

"No eating cookies without permission, John! You know the rules."

"May I have permission to have the cookie then?" John asked politely as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, Mother's eyes narrowed darkly however.

"No, you may not."

"Can I have the cookie?" Ezra asked instead and she handed him the cookie with a smile.

"Of course you can, my sweet boy," Mother assured him before shooing them again with her hands, "Now go play, don't waste your childhoods."

They followed Amos outside obediently into the bright summer sunshine and the garden, full of vibrant colors as the flowers were in bloom and the herbs were plentiful. As soon as they were out of the view of the kitchen door, Ezra handed him the cookie behind Amos' back and gave him a wink. John gave him a grateful smile before munching on the cookie.

"Sometimes I don't think Mother likes me very much," John admitted after finishing the cookie as they continued the trek through the neatly cobbled pathway to get to the open area they could play in.

"That's what you get for being a boy when Mother wanted a girl," Amos said with a shrug, John scowled at this and turned to Ezra.

"Is that true?"

"I don't know, I don't really remember," Ezra admitted disinterested as they left the hedged off section to the spacious grassy area that climbed up a massive hill with an old willow tree at the top they often played in, or at least when they _let_ John play with them.

"Last one to touch the tree is stinky Nundu breath!" Amos announced with a smile before bolting into a run towards the hill, Ezra and John raced after him but as usual John was quickly left behind them.

"Wait up!" John yelled desperately, wishing he was taller like his brothers. Despite his best efforts, he could never keep with them. Aside from being older then him, they were also faster, stronger, taller and smarter. John hated being the youngest.

"Haha, I win!" Amos called back to him proudly as he reached the tree, followed a second later by Ezra before finally John and the eldest Avery boy smirked while folding his arms, "You lose baby brother. Again."

"I'm not a baby, just a loser."

"You're not supposed to admit to being a loser, you're an Avery not a Weasley," Ezra complained while pulling himself up onto a branch and starting to climb.

"But I did just lost," John admitted and tried to follow his brother's example, however he couldn't quite reach. Instead he grabbed a smaller, lower branch that broke off and caused him to fall back onto the grass.

"And now you just fell," Amos laughed at him while John got up still holding the stick that had broken off, "Now you're a loser _and_ a faller."

"Hey guys," Ezra called back down to them, "Check it out, there's a bunch of muggles having a picnic."

"Muggles?" Amos repeated, his laughter fading immediately into a dark expression, "Filth like that shouldn't be allowed near our home."

"Let them keep their distance I say, that girl is _hot_," Ezra shrugged, shocking both John and Amos who looked up at him in confusion, "What? Haven't you noticed that pretty girls are kind of nice to look at?"

"No," John and Amos scoffed in unison, Ezra seemed surprised by his and scratched the back of his head nervously.

"Well they are. Even muggles."

"What's so bad about muggles anyway?" John wondered curiously and it was his turn to be looked at in surprise.

"They don't have magic, they're _animals_," Amos insisted as John idly drew the stick down the tree trunk.

"Yes but I like animals, we don't hate owls or cats so why are muggles so bad?"

"Because they're stupid and dirty! They're vermin, they're a plague like locusts or rats!" Amos told him, his tone darkening as his expression twisted angrily while he advanced on him, "They drove our kind into hiding, forcing us to live in their shadow! And then those mudblood filth _dare_ to try steal _our_ magic?! They're the worst and if you even have to ask that question then you're the worst too, John! No sympathy for the enemy!"

"But don't muggles not even know we exist so how are they driving us out?" John pressed curiously but foolishly, he wanted to know, "And why do they look so much like us if they're animals?"

Amos gave a cry of rage and grabbed the stick from John's hands, he then swung it back round and hit John around the head with it hard. John was knocked to the ground while his head rang painfully from the force of the blow, he burst into tears at the pain. But then Amos hit him again. And again. And again. He was forced to raised his arms to protect his head until Ezra jumped down, grabbing the stick off Amos.

"That's enough!" Ezra snapped.

Amos backed off, his nostrils flaring as he remained fuming while Ezra watched him for a long minute before throwing down the stick. The second he did, Amos lunged at him and slammed his fist into Ezra's face. The tumbled to the ground, Ezra tried to push Amos off him but the elder boy struck him again before biting down on Ezra's still outstretched arm. Ezra gave a cry of pain and hit Amos with his free hand.

"ENOUGH!" a new voice screamed and all three froze, turning to see their father standing there having evidently returned from his work in the Ministry. He was dressed in usual unruffled black robes, his hair was neatly cropped and his dark eyes glowering in disapproval. He wasn't the most physically imposing person in the world but nonetheless he seemed to radiate power to John, "I do not wish to come home and find my sons brawling with each other like animals!"

"But Father-" Amos started to say as he got off Ezra, the two getting to their feet.

"BUT NOTHING!"

The elder two hung their heads in shame while John sat there sniffing miserably, Father came over and scooped him up though to carry him back to the house with the other two following as he led them back into the kitchen which was now empty. He sat John down and retrieved some potion to put on the wounds he'd endured from being beaten with a stick, starting to apply it and his pain started to ease while asking them what happened. Father had a system of how to deal with the fighting, they'd each give their own account of what had happened – no interruption – and Father would deduce the truth from it to deliver the verdict.

"Ezra, you're grounded for one week," Father decided after they'd all had their say, turning to Ezra standing beside him along with Amos, "While I appreciate your efforts to keep the peace amongst your siblings, expressing attraction for muggle scum is despicable. Furthermore, you're _ten_. Act your age, I don't want to see you interested in women until you see your pureblooded bride that I'd have chosen for you walking down the aisle to marry you. It's disgusting and wrong to have such thoughts before marriage."

"Yes, Father," Ezra nodded and Father gestured for him to go which Ezra obediently did.

"Amos, you're grounded for two weeks," Father continued as he turned to Amos, "While you were in the right to stick to your wands about muggle scum, you shouldn't have resorted to violence against your brother. Family comes first, there are so few purebloods left and even less Averys so we can't afford to turn on each other. You're starting Hogwarts in a few months and this is how you think to act? No. John was wrong and has to learn but you teach with words not with fists, it's a very barbaric muggle way of dealing with things."

"Yes, Father," Amos nodded and Father gestured for him to go which Amos obediently did.

"John, you're grounded for three weeks," Father said as he finally turned to John who still sat at the table beside him, "Your brother shouldn't have attacked you like that but you are even more in the wrong for expressing such sympathetic thoughts about muggles, your crime was the worst of all. Muggles are vile vermin and to think otherwise it to betray not only your own kind but your own family, the very blood flowing through your veins and everything it stands for. Muggle are bad, you must learn that and you must remember that. Plus you cried, crying is for the weak and I expect better from my sons."

"Yes, Father," John nodded and Father gestured for him to go, which he did.


	10. VI: Pip Varanian - Driving You Crazy

_October 2022, (VI: Chapter 18)_

"Well, that's another dead end," Pip Varanian grumbled with a scowl as he heaved a sigh, trudging through the fields and falling leaves with Annie.

"Gosh, really?" Annie quipped with a tone leaden with sarcasm, "I hadn't noticed."

"I don't know why I keep losing his trail," Varanian continued, opting to ignore her sarcasm, "It's like he vanishes off the face of the Earth. Literally vanishes. Like when we're following a Shadow who decides to leave via Specter, the damn things way of traveling is untraceable. But Florian can't be using one of them, at least we've heard nothing about another rogue Specter."

"Pip?"

He spared her a glance, she was wearing a thicker jacket against the colder weather and walking boots as well as her usual faded jeans, her auburn hair was tied back and up as always too. Her sharp sapphiric eyes were on him, shadowed by bags of tiredness exacerbated by her somewhat gaunt - but still beautiful - face. She was the only person he knew who had a sleep schedule as erratic as his, like him she also tended to put work before food. He considered her rather his unofficial second in command now as well as... well, his girlfriend. Which still seemed weird to think let alone say, he struggled to do so with a straight face, much to her amusement. It wasn't his fault though, girlfriends were things for teenagers and he was fifty.

"Yes?" Varanian wondered as he casually intertwined her fingers with his as they walked, squeezing gently as he felt her hand was cold. He liked being close to her and it was nice to be able to take comfort not hurt from touch again, it took a lot more to aggravate the burn scars now.

"You've told me this," Annie pointed out.

"I have?"

"Yeah, you know just one or two... hundred... thousand times," Annie shrugged, fidgeting idly, "But its okay, you can tell me again if you like. I don't think it's sunk in enough for me to recite it backwards yet but I'm getting there."

"Sorry," Varanian muttered apologetically.

"It's okay," Annie brushed it off as the base came into view, "But my point is that if you want to talk about something else other than Florian then that'd be cool, especially after we've done nothing but track him for the past eighteen hours."

"Mostly I just want to sleep," Varanian admitted, suppressing a yawn, "Maybe get something to eat first. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat. We could try that restaurant we passed, the one that smelled good."

"Or we could not, I'm a fugitive. Remember that very minor life altering detail?" Varanian snarked.

"Yeah but you can look like anyone, they Aurors are hardly going to be checking all muggle restaurants nationwide expecting you to be eating there," Annie countered we they passed by her car, "Hello car."

"It's still too risky," Varanian insisted while Annie's attention remained on her beat up looking car.

"Fine, be a spoilsport," Annie complained disinterestedly, "You know, I'm actually really looking forward to teaching Michael to drive next summer."

"Why do you need to teach him to drive? It's easy," Varanian scoffed as they came to a halt by the car, Annie glanced back to him as an eyebrow rose.

"I'm sorry, can you drive?"

"Of course I can drive, any idiot can."

"When have you ever driven?" Annie wondered incredulously.

"We'll never," Varanian admitted and a smirk crept onto his girlfriend's face so he added quickly, "But I've seen it done loads of times by Ethel and her parents, it's easy."

"Prove it," Annie challenged, pulling her hand away to fold her arms.

"What?"

"Prove it," Annie repeated and gestured to her car, "Drive the car right now if it's easy. If you can then we'll go eat whatever leftovers are in the base like you want, if you can't then we'll go try that restaurant like I want."

"I'm not agreeing to that," Varanian insisted, folding his arms, "I don't have to prove anything to you."

"Why? Is the great and mighty Gray leader afraid of being proved wrong?" Annie teased playfully.

"I'm not afraid of being proved wrong because I know I'm right. I just happen to believe this whole challenge is a waste of time."

"No, just arguing about it is. It doesn't take five minutes for someone who can actually to you know, drive," Annie stated and her smile widened, "Guess it just goes to show you can't drive so we should go ahead to that restaurant now, forfeiting means I win."

"It does not mean you win, I am merely choosing not to partake in this pointless exercise. I could easily drive but I'm just choosing not to."

"Uh-huh. Well we in the muggle world and you know, planet Earth in general don't give out prizes for saying you could do things instead of actually doing them."

"I can drive a- You know what? Fine. I know I can drive and I have absolutely nothing to lose," Varanian decided, figuring this was one of those times when it was just better ton agree if he wanted to move past this conversation point. Besides he was sure he could drive, it was easy. He headed over to the car, seeing Annie smirk and realizing he was about to open the passenger side door. He quickly abandoned the incorrect door and went over to the driver's side, trying to pretend he hadn't gone for the other door at all. There was suddenly a clicking sound and the lights on the car flashed, he leaped back in shock.

"That's it unlocking," Annie pointed out.

"I knew that," Varanian grumbled as he wrenched open the door and sat down in the driver's seat for the first time in his life. He scratched at his the back of his scruffy, tawny hair as he looked around at the alien controls.

"Want to give up yet and admit you can't drive?" Annie wondered as she got into the seat beside him.

"Of course not, like I said it's easy," Varanian insisted stubbornly, he gestured to the controls, "It's simple, you have your spinning wheel that turns the car and your pedals that make it go and stop, then there's this stick... thing that people just wiggle around."

"You mean the gear stick?" Annie provided, looking very amused.

"Yes the gear stick. I believe it controls the..." Varanian trailed off, resisting the urge to scowl at what the hell the purpose of such a thing could be, "Speed... of the gears... that the car is made of... I believe. And- Why is there two freaking gear sticks?"

"That one is the handbrake, dear."

"Right," Varanian muttered and saw her trying not to laugh, "Hey! Just because I don't know the technical terms, it doesn't mean I can't drive. You don't need to know the names to know how to use them."

"Uh-huh," Annie nodded still smiling and casually plugged in her seatbelt, he quickly followed suit.

"Okay, time to drive," Varanian muttered as he took a deep breath, taking a hold of the wheel and bracing himself before he slammed his foot down on the first pedal and-

Nothing happened. He slammed his foot down again, then again. Nothing. He scowled and tried the second pedal, still nothing. It must be the third pedal that's the start one, Varanian said to himself, refusing to let himself be phased as he slammed his foot down on the final pedal and- Still nothing. He leaned back and his frown deepened.

"Annie, I think your car's broken," Varanian announced and glanced at the woman, seeing she was holding up a key with a smug look on her face, "Oh yeah, cars need keys to move."

"You ready to admit you can't drive yet?" Annie questioned as he took the keys.

"No, I can do it," Varanian told her determinedly, shoving it into the slot by the turning wheel and twisting it. To his delight - and relief - the engine roared to life, he grinned at his girlfriend, "Ah-ha! See? I turned it on."

"Pip, a four year old messing around with her daddy's car keys could do that and very well might've done at one point. You're trying to drive the car, not just turn it on."

"I know that," Varanian muttered, losing his smile as his focus returned to the car. He took the turning wheel once more and proceeded to slam his foot down on the pedal again, he heard the engine roar again but the car didn't move, "Wh-"

"The car won't move with the handbrake on," Annie offered and Varanian went to grab the handbrake, "That's the gear stick."

"Dammit," Varanian cursed and moved his hand to the other stick thing before Annie burst out laughing.

"You idiot! I'm just screwing with you, you had it right the first time!"

"I knew that," Varanian lied, feeling his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He gripped the other stick thing and tried to move it, it did not move, "Why does nothing in this damn car work?!"

"Because you have to press the button," Annie chuckled as she put her hand over his gently, pressing the small button on the end of the stick and lowered the stick before moving her hand away, "And if you want the car to move then you'll have to put the car into the right gear."

"Right," Varanian nodded and moved his hand over to the other stick, he tried to move it but it didn't budge. He threw his hands up in the air in frustration, "Oh, come on!"

"You have to hold the clutch down to change gears."

"What the hell is the clutch?! You have to be making this up."

"It's the first pedal," Annie provided and he grudgingly put his foot down on the first pedal, moving a hand back to the gear stick and moving it aimlessly around as he realized he had no idea what the right gear was or how to do it. Once more, Annie her hand over his and guided his movement, "Follow the path in the gear stick knob, you have to set it number one when you start it."

"Right," Varanian muttered and put his hands back in the turning wheel, he took a deep breath and swallowed his pride before lowering his arms, "You win. I can't drive a car."

"You're giving up?" Annie wondered in surprise, "Just like that?"

"Yes, clearly there's a lot more to it than I thought," Varanian conceded his defeat, "If I try to press the go pedal now it probably still won't work because I need to flick the thingy-" he knocked one of the sticks jutting out of the turning wheel and the wipers turned on, he tried to turn it off but only succeeded in causing the lights to turn on, he wasn't winning "-to make the pedal switch on or... something. Can you fix it?"

Annie merely smiled, flicking this and that to undo the damage he'd done. Fiddling with the gear stick and handbrake to presumably revert them back to however they'd been before, finally turning the key and taking it back so the car went silent once more.

"Cheer up, Pip, I still love you," Annie assured him, drawing her hand gently across his cheek before planting a soft kiss on his lips.

"Oh good because I really was worried, I always felt our relationship would fall apart if you were proven right on something," Varanian quipped and Annie gave a snort of amusement as they unplugged their seatbelts, getting out of the car. He pulled her into her arms, he kissed her once more, "I still love you too. So which restaurant is this you wanted to go?"

"Nah, I don't care about that now."

"You don't care about that- But you win," Varanian spluttered out incredulously.

"Well you were right, it's too risky," Annie shrugged it off before smiling, "Besides, your very abysmally poor attempt to drive was reward enough."

"I'm glad it was fun for you," Varanian told her, smiling through gritted teeth as his cheeks burned again. Annie laughed before kissing him again.

"Come on," Annie said, taking his hand and leading him back towards the base, "Let's just eat and get to bed before the others start nagging us about boring crap, dunno about you but I'm beat."


	11. F: Flannery Leebin - First Death

_**Author's Note:** Thanks so much to Colin Creevey for reviewing!_

* * *

_April 1997 (Flashback)_

"And... th-th-e-un... then... th-the... m-m-ma-ay-in... man. And then the man," the four year old Flannery Leebin puzzled out from the hard to make out letters on page.

He grinned and looked up to see if his mummy was pleased, she seemed to have fallen asleep though. She was lying in the bed beside him, her faded reddish-brown hair falling over the edges of her pale, waxy skin. He thought she was looking a bit better though, at least her skin looked less gray apart from the shadows beneath her eyes. His mummy got sick a lot, he just had to be a good boy and look out for her when she was sick like she did for him. Except he never got as sick as she did, he never had to go to St Mungo's like she did and it was where they were now with people bustling around them. He didn't mind, his uncle Hogan worked here and the other people were nice, Flan felt bad for them being sick or hurt and all.

"Mummy?" Flan prompted gently of his mummy, after all she may just have been resting her eyes.

His mummy gave him no answer though, she was sleeping. He debated whether to keep reading or not, she had asked him to read for her and she may be sleeping now but she could always wake up and hear him reading for her. He probably should keep reading, he needed to practice she said. He wasn't very good at reading, his best friend Selby was way better. Flan thought his eyes might be broken, Selby said letters weren't supposed to be blurry and that's why he could read easier. Plus people seemed to think some colors were different to what Flan saw.

"Flan," a familiar voice called, saving him from his dilemma as he saw his daddy and Uncle Hogan walking over to him. They were identical twins but Flan thought they were pretty easy to tell apart, his daddy had a scar on his eyebrow and they almost always seemed to wear the clothes they need for work as an Auror and Healer respectively.

"Daddy!" Flan cried happily and ran over to his daddy, surprised to see him so soon when usually he was at work at this time.

"Hey Flan," his daddy said, his tone devoid of usual enthusiasm as Flan threw himself into his daddy's arms, his daddy hugged him briefly before pulling him away and crouching to his level like when he was serious. His expression was serious, he put his hands on Flan's shoulders, "Flan, I have to talk to you about something serious."

"Um... Okay," Flan nodded uncertainly, gazing into his daddy's cyan colored eyes and starting to feel a bit worried, "Is it about Mummy?"

"No, she should be alright," his daddy shook his head, "It's about your friend, the Montgomery boy."

"Selby?" Flan guessed, vaguely recalling his best friend's last name and his daddy nodded.

"Yes, last night... last night a bad man- a Death Eater even, he um... he hurt Selby."

"Is he going to be okay?" Flan asked worriedly to which his daddy opened and closed his mouth several times.

"He um... Err..."

"No," Uncle Hogan interrupted bluntly, "He's going to die."

"Hogan!" his daddy hissed immediately while Flan felt his heart explode inside, death was bad, "He's four years old for fuck's sake, show some tact."

"Did- Did you just hear what you said right now? You swore-"

"And I swore with tact, they're two completely different things," his daddy insisted to which his uncle merely smirked.

"I don't understand," Flan winged worriedly and the adults both sobered immediately, "Isn't there anything you can do to stop him dying or cure him from the dead? Can't you make him better? I don't want Selby to die."

"Well there's a slight chance-"

"Don't get his hopes up," Uncle Hogan hissed, "Trust me, his injuries are too are too severe. The odds are million to one he'll pull though."

"But there's a chance-"

"And better a miracle recovery from a hopeless situation then to crush his hopes because he thought his friend would be okay, hope for the best but prepare for the worst - and unfortunately more likely - situation," Uncle Hogan said seriously and his daddy sighed before glancing back to him.

"They'll do everything they can, Flan, but don't get your hopes up," his daddy told him gently, "Just because we have magic, it doesn't mean we're all powerful."

"Can I see Selby?" Flan wondered and the twins exchanged a look of surprise.

"If you really want to and it's okay with your dada," Uncle Hogan agreed slowly, "He's going to be weak and sleepy like your mama though, he may not even wake up at all."

"Okay," Flan nodded in understanding.

"Well okay then," his daddy stated reluctantly as he stood, "I have to talk to his parents anyway for the report, you can say goodbye while I'm doing that. Never done a report for someone I actually knew before, this is going to be bloody awkward."

His daddy took his hand and spared a glance at his sleeping wife before they set off, following Uncle Hogan through the all too familiar halls although Flan didn't know the names of the floors. The words were too blurry and usually bigger than he was used to, Selby might be able to- Flan cut that thought off before letting it finish, Selby probably couldn't do anything when he was going to die. He gripped his daddy's hand tighter for comfort, he knew what dying was but he didn't really know anyone who had died before. Forever was a long time for someone to be gone.

"Flan, are you sure you want to see Selby?" his daddy asked him gently as they reached a ward that Flan would guess was the right one, purely because he could see Selby's mummy and daddy. Mr Montgomery was hugging Mrs Montgomery, she looked like she'd been crying. Flan nodded determinedly, Selby was his best friend and if it really was goodbye forever then he should see him. He wanted to see him, his daddy cleared his throat as they reached them, "I'm here as an Auror, I need to talk to you about last night. And Flan would just like to say... hi to his friend, if that's alright with you."

"That's alright," Mr Montgomery agreed, his voice sounding thick as his wife nodded in approval, "He's sleeping now though."

"We'll just be over there, okay Flan?" his daddy said to him quietly, jerking his head to an empty bed a few feet away. Flan nodded once more as his daddy let go of his hand, directing him to the bed they stood beside.

Flan swallowed nervously as the adults moved away to the previously indicated space, leaving Flan alone with his friend. He moved closer to the bed, trying not to look shocked by his appearance. Selby looked worse than his mummy, the five year old's skin was ashen gray and bandages peeked out from under his hospital robes as well as on his cheek, wrapped around his head of brown hair. His breathing seemed... wrong as well, jerky and weak.

"How are you doing?" Flan asked quietly, not expecting an answer but it was easier to talk to sleeping people if you pretended they could. He was surprised to get an answer though.

"Fl- Flan?" Selby croaked out weakly, his eyes fluttering briefly open at him but struggled to stay open and quickly closed but he seemed to stay conscious, "Ar- Are you r- really h- here, Fl- Flan?"

"Course I am, why wouldn't I be?" Flan said, trying to sound strong then he felt and actually seemed to succeed whole tears seeped from the cracks of Selby's eyes.

"Cause I g- got b- bit by th- the werewolf, Gr- Greyback so I am one too, I'm a monster," Selby told him, sounding as if he was desperately trying not to cry and failing, "Werewolves are b- bad, I d- didn't think anybody would like me anymore."

"Well I don't care about that," Flan decided and took Selby's hand to show he wasn't afraid, Selby's eyes flickered open again briefly and he tried to smile through the tears flowing from his eyes, "You're my best friend and you'll always be my best friend, you're not bad just cause Greyback bit you and you're a werewolf. Some people are bad and some aren't and some werewolves are bad and some aren't, that's what I think. And you're good, Selby."

"Y- You really think so?" Selby wondered, his eyes streaming tears again as his lip quivered, "Cause I- I- I'm sc- scared th- that I'm going to die and I'm scared I'll g- go to h- hell c- cause Greyback turned me into a monster."

"Of course you're not going to go to hell," Flan told him firmly, "The only person who is going to go to hell is Greyback because he is bad for hurting you, you're good and I know that. Greyback can't turn you bad, being a werewolf doesn't make you bad."

"Right," Selby muttered, looking slightly at ease before blinking back more tears, "But I'm still sc- scared to die, I don't know what w-will happen. Even if I don't go to h-hell, what if it's still not nice there? What if I get lonely? I don't know a-anyone who is died. Wh-What if the dead people are mean to me? I don't want to die, Flan. And what- what if it hurts? Last night hurt worse th- then anything ever in my life and dying must hurt worse and-"

"You're not going to die," Flan lied before he could stop himself, seeing his friend getting worked up enough to start shaking in fear and squeezing his hand tightly.

"I'm not?" Selby wondered and Flan shook his head in confirmation, seeing the relief on Selby's face at his lie, "Ar- Are you sure? Cause I've never been hurt this bad before..."

"My Uncle Hogan is a Healer, rember? He told me that you're not going to die," Flan continued lying, feeling horrible since lying was bad but unable to stop seeing his friend looking more at ease, "You're going to get better he said, you're going to live until you're super ultra old, you won't die for so long time until you're ready."

"I- I'm glad," Selby smiled weakly and his eyes fluttered shut again, his voice getting quieter with every word, "I was so scared, Flan. I'm glad I won't die yet, I didn't get to go to Hogwarts yet to learn magic like my big sisters and I only just turned five. I was being silly, wasn't I? Five is too young to die. I hope I can still go now that I'm a werewolf but Dumbledore is nice they all say so I hope he doesn't mind- I hope my sisters won't mind either, or Mum and Dad... Where are Mum and Dad?"

"Over there," Flan provided, nodding to the talking adults stupidly as Selby's eyes were closed still. His friend seemed to just take his word for it though.

"T- Tell them I'm just going to take a little nap, c- could you, Flan? I- I'm very tired..." Selby mumbled sleepily before his head lolled and Flan felt the grip on his hand go limp.

"Selby?" Flan promoted fearfully as the boy went quiet, in fact he didn't seem to be moving anymore, "Selby? Selby?!"

"Flan, get out of the way!" Uncle Hogan snapped as he rushed back over, pushing him out of the way and taking out his wand that he started waving over Selby's still unmoving body and calling for help.

"Flan," his daddy said and he felt his daddy put his arm around him, trying to guide him away but Flan didn't move, he couldn't take his eyes off Selby as other Healers came over to help. After a few minutes though, they seemed to give up and Uncle Hogan turned to Selby's parents.

"I'm sorry," Uncle Hogan told them quietly, Mrs Montgomery shrieked and her husband hugged her tight as she started crying, "He's gone, there's nothing more we can do."

"Come on, Flan, I can finish talking to them later," his daddy urged and Flan finally allowed himself to be led away, his spindly little legs feeling shaky beneath him as his young mind tried to wrap itself around what had just happened, "You okay, Flan? Do you... wanna... go get... ice cream?"

"Selby died, didn't he?" Flan asked in a whisper, trying very hard not to cry and saw his daddy's expression soften as he nodded, "I can't believe he died."

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Flan," his daddy said quietly while Flan's legs decided they couldn't go on anymore.

"I don't understand, I don't know why-" Flan choked on a sob, his daddy scooped him up and sat him down on an empty hospital bed while also sitting beside him.

"There's something important you have to understand about life Flan," his daddy said seriously and Flan looked at him tearfully, sensing it was important, "It's not fair. Good things can happen to bad people and bad things can happen to good people, there's no reason for it. That's just how it is, we have to make our own order and our own justice. That's why I'm an Auror, I put away the bad people so they can't hurt anyone else because life isn't going to."

"That sucks," Flan sniffed unhappily and his daddy gave a wry smile as he put his arm around him comfortingly.

"That's life, Flan, welcome to the real world," his daddy told him and hugged him tighter as he hung his head, "I know it sucks but there's good things in life too, I mean didn't you have fun with Selby? Playing with him and talking to him."

"Yeah, but now he's dead," Flan pointed out, struggling to speak through the lump in his throat as he thought of Selby being gone forever.

"Everyone dies eventually, Flan, you can't choose how long but what you can control is what matters most. And what matters is what you do with your life and who you have in your life, you got to be friends with him and even death can't take that away from you."

"I told a lie to him," Flan admitted tearfully, "He was scared to die and I told him he was going to be okay, the last that I ever said was a lie. I'm a bad friend."

"Sometimes - in very rare times - its okay to lie to make people feel better," his daddy told him and Flan was shocked into halting his tears, "He got to die with his friend by his side, feeling hopeful not hurt or scared. I don't think that's such a bad thing, do you?"

"No," Flan sniffed, deciding he didn't want to know if this was one of those good times to lie and his daddy was just trying to make him feel better, "I'm still going to miss him a lot though."

"I know, Flan," his daddy said quietly and hugged him as Flan cried into shoulder, he could only hope it would be a very long time before his mummy or daddy died too, "We always do."


	12. VI: Myriam Leebin - Break

_Late June (VI: Chapter 71)_

Myriam had lost her husband, for months he'd been missing and she'd had to fear he was dead. She'd finally gotten him back, except he was _still_ lost and for weeks he'd been missing inside his own mind. She'd had to fear he would be insane forever, until finally- _finally _she'd gotten him back within his own mind. And yet, he still wasn't himself.

Flan was now quiet and withdrawn, he always seemed on edge and afraid. He'd developed a number of fears, including knives, hooks, fire, water when it was in a larger body like a sink or bathtub, wands unless they were in his hand, pins, needles, nails, graters, screws, wires, razors, rope, rocks sometimes and hammers. He also refused to wear glasses, drink anything hot – and wouldn't drink anything before dipping a finger in to check it was cool - or eat anything hot although he'd still take _warm_ food at least. He was so jumpy he flinched at the slightest provocation, any sudden movement or unexpected sound, any loud sound, every touch, at times he even jumped at shadows or certain words, sometimes even his own name.

She hated seeing him like that. She wasn't stupid, she'd seen enough of the scars and heard enough about his injuries to have an idea _why_ he was afraid. She could see he was deeply hurt, in pain. As bad as it had been when he'd lost his mind, at least he'd seemed _happy_. She could tell he hated being like that too, he'd get the same flicker of shame in his eyes that he had when he failed at a spell. She had to just try to avoid setting him off as he'd get panic attacks from his fears, or magical outbursts because that was another thing: magic.

Flan had struggled to use magic as long as she'd known him – and it was something she threw the blame firmly at the feet of his uncle for – but now the times he'd get upset, magic would accidentally happen like it would for one of their children just to a more frequent and more severe degree. She wouldn't have thought it possible but his spellcasting had also managed to actually get even _worse, _even spells he could actually do before went badly wrong like he had no control at all. Sometimes she really felt like her family could never catch a break.

She sighed as she finished up the last of the dishes, pulling the plug and drying her hands before heading back down the corridor where Flan was putting the kids to bed. Lysel and Maurene had rooms opposite each other, Flan was tucking Maurene into her bed so she went into her son's room where Lysel was already tucked in and sound asleep amongst his menagerie of stuffed animals. He was already weak from the full moon still a week away so didn't last long, her poor little trooper. Being a werewolf wasn't fun like that although she still felt alright, she hadn't been as ill as he was since she'd been pregnant with him.

"Just hang in there," she whispered as she kissed his forehead gently, hating that he had to suffer and hoping he'd get through it, "Please hang in there."

She left him to sleep and crossed over into her daughter's room, passing Flan on his way out. At least now he had plenty of time to spend with the kids, too bad it came at the cost of being unable to leave the house because they had to pretend he was still insane. She didn't think being stir crazy helped with everything. She kissed her daughter goodnight, finding it hard to believe Maurene was seven already. It wasn't that long before she'd be off in Hogwarts, so close yet still yet so far. Assuming they and Hogwarts were all still standing then, of course.

"Goodnight sweetheart," Myriam offered, giving her little girl a gentle smile and caressed the scars on her daughter's face. She'd done it the first time she transformed into a werewolf, pregnancy delayed her first transformation so it had taken them all by surprise.

"Night-night Mummy," Maurene told her with a yawn, returning the smile although not opening her eyes as she rolled over onto her side, "Love you."

"Love you too," Myriam assured her and fixed her blankets to account for the new position.

She left Maurene to sleep and returned to her room, Flan seemed to have just finished changing into pajamas. He was getting better at that, losing half his fingers did impede his ability to do things as easily. She changed into her nightdress while Flan went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, he finished just when she needed to do the same and went to go put out the lights while she brushed her own teeth. He was climbing into bed when she finished, they did have a pretty solid routine in place now again.

"Well goodnight," Flan offered as he lay down, rolling over onto his side facing away from her.

"That's it? Goodnight?" Myriam wondered, feeling somewhat saddened they put so much effort into putting their kids to sleep but didn't have a conversation amongst themselves, she didn't even get a goodnight kiss. In fact, it had been a long time since they did anything romantic together and this year was their tenth anniversary. Her tone must've betrayed her as he sat back up with a slight frown.

"Why? Do you want me to go sleep on the couch?"

"What? Why would- No," Myriam turned him down in confusion, scowling slightly herself, "I just… I thought we could… that we could talk."

"Are you alright?" Flan asked worriedly.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Is it about Maurene?"

"No, she's fine."

"Is Lysel doing worse than usual? He seemed okay when I put him down…"

"No, he's alright," Myriam insisted and Flan looked relieved for a moment, "As much as he can be anyway."

"Is the Ministry canceling the money they give you because of me being incapacitated?"

"No, we're actually alright on money for once."

"Hmm," Flan mused and scratched his head, apparently out of topics to guess and she knew why.

"That kind of is all we talk about these days," Myriam admitted aloud and he nodded in agreement, she didn't remember the last time they had a conversation that _wasn't_ about problems their family were facing. She wasn't quite sure what she had hoped to accomplish, she didn't really know what to say either, "Do you want to read a book or something?"

"No. Why would I want to do that?" Flan scoffed as if she'd suggested something as unbelievable as flying to the moon.

"I don't know, you used to… like reading."

"Well now I don't, I can't read without glasses anyway."

"Then wear your glasses."

"I'm not wearing glasses, they're _dangerous_," Flan insisted, twitching uncomfortably.

"How are they dangerous?" Myriam wondered incredulously.

"Because people can smash them into your eyes!" Flan protested rather irrationally and her doubt must've shown on her face, "It's a thing, it really happens!"

"That doesn't mean it's _likely_ to happen, no one's going to do that to you."

"You don't know that," Flan complained, looking incredibly anxious, "In fact, I'm not sure we should be letting Maurene risk herself by wearing them."

"Flan, are you listening to yourself right now?" Myriam prompted worriedly and he looked at her for a long moment.

"I suppose you're right… I'm still not wearing them though."

"Alright," Myriam nodded, still feeling concerned while her husband lay back down.

"Goodnight."

"Night," Myriam muttered as he rolled over away from her, she waved her wand to kill the light before lying down beside him.

She sighed and lay there, watching her worries chase around her mind while Flan tossed and turned beside her. Sleep didn't come easy to either of them, eventually Flan went quiet beside her finally asleep while she stared up at the somewhat lumpy ceiling feeling wide awake and wondering what she could do about anything.

She heard Flan groaned and glance, seeing him tense in his sleep before he started tossing and turning for an entirely different reason, struggling against the nightmares that plagued him. She hated him seeing struggling but if she woke him then he got even _more_ upset, it was unfortunately best to just wait it out.

He jolted awake abruptly and a bolt of lightning flashed before them, causing her to jump fearfully into a sitting position herself as it blew up one of their bedposts. He looked around with an expression of panic and fear, breathing heavily.

"It's okay, Flan, you're home," Myriam told him gently and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T _EVER_ TOUCH ME!" Flan screeched at her as he flinched violently away from her hand.

She pulled her hand quickly in shock, _that_ was new. He looked away from her, still shuddering as he took deeper breaths as if to try calm himself. He went to bury his face in his scarred hands that now lacked several fingers, only to flinch from them which he glared at as he moved them away from his face. Unsure what to do, she just waited as his breathing gradually became more even, finally slowing to a regular speed and he hung his head. She was debating with herself what she should say when he spoke.

"I'm sorry," Flan apologized quietly and spared her a glance, "I didn't mean to yell at you."

"It's okay," Myriam offered and patted him on the shoulder gently.

"WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT TOUCHING ME?!" Flan shrieked at her, flinching from her hand once more and she pulled it back as if burned while he started hyperventilating again and some books flew off the shelves.

"Sorry," Myriam mumbled guiltily, hating her failure to comfort him and just having to wait for him to calm down again. Flan was good at knowing what people were thinking, what they needed to hear. In contrast, she never knew what _he_ was thinking and for someone who made a living getting people to open up, he was pretty poor at doing so himself.

"No, I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't- shouldn't react like that, I'm sorry," Flan muttered ashamedly and went to put his head in his hands again before again jolting back from his own hands, glaring at them once more as if they'd wronged him.

"It's alright," Myriam assured him and resisted the urge to put her hand on his shoulder comfortingly again in case it freaked him out, "What did your hands do on you?"

"My hands? They just… don't feel like _my_ hands anymore," Flan answered very quietly, glancing at them briefly before shuddering, "Don't feel comfortable in my own _skin_ really…"

"I'm sure you just need time," Myriam offered, having absolutely no clue whether that was right or not.

"Hmm," Flan grunting, giving no indication of whether he believed that or not before he sighed and lay back down, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight?" Myriam repeated in surprise and he sat back up worriedly.

"Do you want me to go sleep on the couch?"

"No! I've literally never- Never mind, I just…" Myriam trailed off, trying to think of the best way to phrase it but she wasn't smart with words. She had to stop hanging out with Ravenclaws, "I feel like we should talk… you know about _you_, with… the stuff… that you're… going through… because talking helps… and stuff…"

"Hmm…" Flan mused for a second as if debating it before casually shaking his head and lying back down, "No. I don't think so

"Flan!" Myriam burst out incredulously.

"_What?_" Flan demanded irritably as he sat back up.

"Look, I know that I'm not like _you _but I love you and I want to help you which I can't do unless you _talk_ to me."

"Well what do you expect me to say, Myriam?"

"I… I don't know, whatever you… feel?" Myriam guessed, rather wishing she'd thought through what she had wanted to say, "You need to talk about it, Flan, you need to talk about _something_. I know… I know you've been through… a _lot_ and you're… you're _struggling_ but you're not… not getting any _better _and… I don't think you will… unless you talk. Come on, that's… that's what you'd say? Right? Just… better worded."

Flan looked at her blankly.

"Look Flan, I'm your _wife_… I just… I just want to help you," Myriam offered and reached out to squeeze his hand comfortingly but stopped herself, noticing him tense still and moved her hand back, "But I don't… I don't know and I won't, I won't unless you _talk_ to me."

"What do you want me to _say_?" Flan demanded again, this time more rhetorically, "That I _know _I'm struggling? That I _know_ I'm not okay? That I _know_ what I'm going through but it still _doesn't_ help? That I _should_ be overjoyed and happy because I'm home sane, because you and the kids are alive and well – and really I am, I am _so_ relieved, you have no idea – but I'm _not_?! That I _should_ be able to cope with this better but I _can't_?!

"That every second of the day I live in fear- I live in_ terror_ that the Shadows are going to come back for me and take me back-" Flan choked on a sob and his voice cracked "-and the only thing that scares me _more_ is the thought of them h-hurting you or the kids instead? That every time I close my eyes I'm back _there_? That I _hate_ feeling like this but I can't shake it? That I feel _broken_… I just feel broken, Myr."

"Oh Flan," Myriam whispered as he broke down crying, she went to put her arms around him and he flinched. She hugged him anyway and he slowly relaxed into her embrace, she felt his own arms circle around her and hold her tight as he cried into her shoulder, "We'll get through this, we always do."


	13. V: Teddy Lupin - What They Deserve

_July 2022 (V: Chapter 19)_

"Yes, I killed them," the prisoner - Cheryl Libra - admitted readily, pursing her lips and sitting straight up proudly in the chair as if she wasn't shackled to the table, "Someone has to take care of those _beasts_, your Ministry _refused_ to protect its people and you slaughtered the only people brave enough to step up to the plate."

"I'm sorry? Who did I slaughter?" Auror Teddy Lupin wondered of the honey haired woman, his bewilderment momentarily distracting him from his anger at her which he was almost glad for because you weren't supposed to let your personal feelings get in the way of the job.

"Well maybe not you specifically but the Ministry in general," Cheryl told him in a tone that suggested she expected him to know this, "Don't play dumb with me, I'm perfectly aware of the whole conspiracy you people have going on here. You saw PAW were taking care of your precious monsters and slaughtered them to stop them, you didn't bother trying to arrest them because you knew no sane person would ever convict them."

"I think you'll find you're quite wrong about that," Teddy pointed out with a scowl, "PAW were killed by person or persons unknown."

"_Sure_ a random person killing all those people and someone leaving no trace is _much_ more likely then the Ministry simply performing the deed themselves and covering it up," Cheryl said in a tone dripping in sarcasm before sobering, "My son died in that attack so I _know_."

"So killing that couple is your way of continuing what your son was a part of?" Teddy asked tiredly, he could not be bothered to argue with this crazy woman.

"It's the right thing to do, anyone with a soul can see that," Cheryl sneered, glaring at him with her extremely pale icy blue eyes, "I killed those _dogs_ and I'm _proud_ of it, werewolves are a plague on this Earth and I'm happy to do my part in eradicating it."

"Well you're going to go to New Azkaban prison for the rest of your life so I hope it was worth it for you."

"_Please_," Cheryl laughed, smiling at him in amusement, "Like I'm ever going to be convicted, I did the world a great service killing those monsters and the people will thank me."

"You _murdered_ good people who never hurt any-"

"Lupin?" someone said with an accompanying knock on the door, he turned as Arkaitz - another Auror - poked his head in, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"What?" Teddy asked as he went over, trying not to sound irritated at the interruption and hoping someone higher ranking wasn't second guessing him as he felt he was a perfectly capable Auror.

"Our records indicate her younger son is a werewolf," Eklund informed him in a hushed tone, "He was turned in Hogsmeade during Greyback's attack, for several months she received the free Wolfsbane for him before refusing the service."

"Why'd she refuse?"

"I don't know but considering her clear prejudice and how she's murdered at least two werewolves..." Eklund trailed off but Teddy understood the implication, he glanced darkly at Cheryl who was fidgeting with her wrists as if trying to find the most comfortable position with the shackles.

"How old's the son?"

"He should be ten now."

"Okay, I'll ask her about it," Teddy assured him as he went back to the table, sitting opposite her with a renewed hatred, "Do you want to tell me what happened to your son?"

"I told you, you people murdered him," Cheryl spat irritably, meeting his eyes and darkly glaring back.

"Your other son."

"Oh," she said, sounding somewhat surprised before her face twisted into a sneer, "You mean _him_. Not much to say, he murdered his own father but you don't charge monsters with crimes."

"Werewolves aren't monsters, they're just people afflicted with a horrible ailment that the majority actually wish to manage and _don't_ want to hurt anyone," Teddy pointed out through gritted teeth, "How can you hold it against your _own_ son? He was a _child_."

"He was a _monster_, when you watch one of those monsters tear apart the love of your life, you'll see for yourself the truly vicious they are," Cheryl told him coldly but more quietly, staring off as if lost in the memory for a minute. He needed to not be sidetracked, he sighed.

"So what did you do to your son?"

"Gave him better then he deserved, I'll tell you that much," Cheryl scoffed bitterly.

"Why'd you stop accepting Wolfsbane for him?"

"Because I stopped trusting your worthless werewolf loving Ministry."

"Alright," Teddy sighed, deciding to just jump to it, "Where is he?"

"Home."

"Is he alive?" Teddy risked asking and she threw him an odd before somehow managing to fold her shackled arms albeit in a lopsided way, glaring once more.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Cheryl snapped irritably, "Or is simply getting off your arse too much of a task for you incompetent Aurors?"

"Fine," Teddy growled darkly as he stood.

He got clearance from Harry before taking a small team of Aurors to go search her house for signs of the son, alive or sadly more likely dead. Such a waste because of such stupid, prejudiced people. It made him so mad and their idiotic Minster refused to take a stance on it, because of course they'd get a pompous fool oblivious to the plight of werewolves as Kingsley's replacement. He shook his head of it, now he just had to focus on finding a poor dead child.

The Libras may have lived in Hogsmesde at the time of Greyback's attack but had moved after that, buying a more isolated house in a more central part of the country. It was on the outskirts of a small muggle village, it looked somewhat dilapidated with shutters sealing all the windows but he suspected that could just be to inspire people to stay away. Which was supported by the various repelling and protective enchantments around the place that they had to carefully remove.

"Watch your step," Teddy warned the trio of Aurors backing him up as they reached the front door fearing worse traps, "Alright, let's split up. You two do a more detailed sweep of the ground, Eklund and I will start a sweep of the house. Standard protocol."

They nodded their understanding and did as commanded, the other two branched off while he and Eklund crept into the house cautiously with their wands out. It was the early hours of the morning but dawn was creeping in, however it was quite dark inside so they lit up their wands. The house did look nicer inside although it seemed somewhat dusty, as if it was kept clean but not thoroughly so. He spotted a family portrait on the wall in the hall, featuring Cheryl, a dark-haired man, two children and a blank space as if someone had been cut out of the picture. It wasn't the only one like it either.

"Hello?" Eklund called, "Is there anyone in here?"

Silence.

"Well that's always s good sign," Teddy muttered and his eyes shifted between the staircase and doors, "You want upstairs or down?"

"Eh, I'll take down," Eklund decided.

Teddy nodded and cautiously approached the staircase while Eklund took the door to the right, warily casting spells searching for enchantments, people or corpses although to be fair none of those were common on staircases, least not in places that doubles as homes. He was surprised to get a hit though upon getting to the top, a golden tendril alerting him to the presence of a person or persons in the first door on the right. The son or some werewolf hating friends?

He hoped for the former but planned for the latter which he thought more likely, the door also had a trap so he countered that silently before flicking hide wand to unlock the door. He then magically waved the door open, allowing him space in case he was attacked right off the bat. The door creaked open loudly and Teddy was surprised to see a child's room, Quidditch posters stuck haphazardly onto the walls and an assortment of toys cast into the far corners. It would've almost looked innocent if not for the cage in the center of the room.

Swallowing nervously, Teddy crept in the room and scanned it visually and magically but the room's only occupant resided in the cage. He crouched by the thick steel bars, despite his prior spell he was uncertain if the prisoner was alive. It had to be her son, it was a child at least and while seemed small for ten it made sense considering the poor state he was in.

His clothes were filthy ruined rags hanging off a fragile bony body, in general he was dirty and his scruffy hair so matted with grime the hair color wasn't distinguishable. His skin was unhealthily pale as if he didn't see sunlight, there was a window in the room but thick black drapes were stitched shut over it in addition to the shut drapes. The pale flesh made the faded bruises more noticeable and an assortment of scars that all - except a nasty one at his hairline that vanished into his hair - looked self-inflicted, the kind werewolves inflicted on themselves in the absence of prey to attack, dried blood and dirt also caked the child's skin. He was curled up on his side, ankles and wrists bound by bloody barbed wire.

"M- Mummy?" the boy croaked weakly in an oddly mumbling tone as his eyes flicked open, the same icy blue as his mother and Teddy noticed he had no teeth oddly. The boy recoiled - as much as possible in a cage not that much bigger then he was - fearfully when his eyes caught Teddy.

"Hey, hey it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," Teddy assured the poor child, suddenly wishing his wife was here in his place as she was better with children then he was. Even Eklund, that guy was a father. He really didn't want to upset the kid who already looked like he'd been through enough, "My name's Teddy, I'm here to help you. What's your name?"

"Se- Sebastian," the boy answered timidly, only looking slightly less afraid, "D- Did Mummy send you to refill my water bowl? Sh- She said she'd give me more when she got back from putting down some dogs but she hasn't come back."

"Um... I can do that," Teddy offered and quickly cast the charm for water to refill the bowl, maybe it would build trust and sate the boy's thirst while he got him out of that forsaken fucking cage.

"Thank you," Sebastian said with relief as he shifted his position as much as possible, cupping the bowl in his hands and drinking from it like it was an oversized cup. While Teddy's instinct was to explode the cage into non existence, he didn't want to hurt the kid do instead he settled for simply using the Unlocking Charm and starting to pull the cage door open before Sebastian's shriek of terror stopped him, "What are you doing?!"

"Getting you out of here."

"No! You don't understand!" Sebastian cried desperately and fearfully, "I- I'm a _werewolf_ okay!? I _need_ to stay in the cage, I'm _dangerous_ and I _have_ to be locked away."

"No, you don't. Your mother is _wrong_," Teddy tried very hard to snap, feeling nothing but rage and disgust against the sorry excuse for a mother but that might frighten the Sebastian. He certainly looked frightened, "Come on, wouldn't you rather not be in the cage?"

"I don't want to hurt anyone else," Sebastian admitted, tears filling his eyes, "I k- killed my dad. And s- some other people, or h- hurt them real bad anyway."

"It's not even the full moon, have you ever hurt anyone when it wasn't the full moon?"

"Of course not because Mummy keeps me in this cage," Sebastian told him as if it was obvious.

"Well how about I get you out of the cage and if you try to hurt me then I can just put you back in, okay?" Teddy offered, never having thought he'd ever have to try reason with a child to get out a cage, he resisted the urge to grit his teeth darkly and took silent satisfaction that Cheryl at least would spend the rest of her life in a cage now. He'd just have to hope Leebin could undo the damage she'd clearly done to Sebastian's mental state already.

"O- Okay," Sebastian hesitantly agreed, still looking terrified but no longer objecting as Teddy opened the cage and helped the poor child out so he was sitting shakily on the floorboards beside him. Teddy used his wand to break the barbed wire tying his ankles but that elicited another screech of panic, "No! What are you doing?! I need to stay tied up so I can't hurt anyone!"

"You're fine," Teddy assured him as he cut the second one, Sebastian flinched fearfully and watched his hands as if he expected them to suddenly attack. Actually, maybe he did, "See?"

"I think Mummy's going to be mad."

"Does she hurt you when she's mad?" Teddy decided to risk asking, wanting to nail this woman for every last one of her despicable crimes but Sebastian shook his head.

"She only hurts me when it's the full moon, I have to be as weak as possible so I can't hurt anyone."

"It's not like you could bite anyone, you have no teeth- In fact, what happened to your teeth?" Teddy asked, distracted from trying to convince him with logic that he was no threat and conjured a blanket as he noticed Sebastian shivering through his thin rags as he wrapped his arms around himself.

"Mummy took them out so I couldn't bite anyone," Sebastian confirmed what he'd suspected as he wrapped him in the blanket, rubbing it gently to try get some warmth back into his body faster which Sebastian didn't object to and scratched oddly at the scar on his head, "Where is Mummy?"

"She did something bad," Teddy told him quietly, not wanting to upset him with the truth quite yet but didn't want to lie either. He really wanted to kill Cheryl though.

"But Mummy is not a werewolf," Sebastian pointed out, looking extremely shocked which worried him. Just how much had she screwed up his mentality? Did he think only werewolves could be bad?

"The world isn't split into bad people and werewolves, you know?"

"I know, some people are on the side of werewolves," Sebastian said, again as if stating the obvious, "But Mummy isn't so what could she do wrong?"

"I'll um... tell you later," Teddy offered, giving up on how to deal with him, "Let's just focus on making sure you're okay first?"

"Is- Is it because of me?" Sebastian asked, suddenly looking extremely upset, "Is it because she's too nice to me?"

"Too nice to you?" Teddy couldn't help but wonder in complete bewilderment, Sebastian gestured around the room.

"Leaving this stuff from my old room in here so my room looks nice. And not killing me for being a werewolf because werewolves are bad," Sebastian explained, scowling slightly as he scratched at his scar again, "Her friends wanted to kill me but my brother begged them not to and um... then I don't remember, it's hard to remember sometimes-"

"Has it been hard since you got that scar?" Teddy guessed and Sebastian nodded as he lowered his hand once more before going back to what he was saying before Teddy could question him more on its origins.

"They decided if I was contained like this it was okay so did they change their minds?" Sebastian asked, his voice cracking as if he was trying not to cry, "Is Mummy in trouble for it? Is it because of _me_? I- It has to be, because I'm a werewolf, I'm _bad_-"

"It's not because of you," Teddy assured him, putting his arm around the boy comfortingly and opened his mouth to insist this further when Eklund poked his head in the door so addressed them instead, "We'll need Healers, Sebastian here needs treatment in St Mungo's."

"I thought St Mungo's was only for people?" Sebastian wondered, his surprise distracting him momentarily from his sadness.

"And a lot of therapy," Teddy added with a sad sigh.


	14. F: Aurelius Ashain - A New Year

_**Thanks to:** percyjackson42, Colin Creevey, RandomGerman and Cristina for reviewing!_

_**Author's Note:** For those wondering Cheryl is locked up in New Azkaban prison for her crimes and that scene took place at the very end of book 5, meaning Sebastian is in the same year as Antonius so will start Hogwarts in the upcoming seventh book_

* * *

_January 1st 1972 (Flashback)_

Fifteen year old Aurelius Ashain lay curled up in his massive kingsized bed, sniffing but the well of his tears seemed to have dried up. Not that he felt any closer to sleeping despite it being the early hours of the morning, it was officially the first day of the new year now. He sighed heavily, lamenting it was already off to a bad start. He still didn't feel like sleeping though, instead his dark chestnut eyes roamed around the gloom aimlessly as he rolled onto his back.

He didn't like his room. The shadows bounced off the marble walls ominously, creating dark shapes that had often scared him when he was younger but now just made him feel uneasy. Scared or not, he didn't like creepy dark looking shapes. In general he didn't like the dark, why would anyone like the dark? You couldn't see. It was dull and boring and bland and silent. Especially here, he missed the gentle sloshing of the water from the Slytherin dungeon, it was so relaxing and even in darkness it gave light to his imagination, he could often wonder if this was what fish heard or people on boat. Not here. Nothing. Any sound incited fear not wonder.

He wondered if any of his dorm mates lay awake in their own rooms in their own mansions right now wishing to be someone else like he was, if they were sleeping or doing something else even. He'd heard some people celebrating the new year dawning, he never had. Father had no time for nonsense like that, fun was despicable as far as Aurelius could tell. He wondered what Mary was doing now, his ex-girlfriend she was. She'd graduated Hogwarts the previous year and broken up with him so he had no way of knowing, he worried about her with the war since she was a muggle-born and all. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was against them.

Aurelius really wished He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was allowed to be named, he'd forgotten what they guy was actually supposed to be called. In truth he'd probably zoned out when being told in the first place, Father hated how he did that. Lots of people hated how he did that, it wasn't like he did it on purpose though. He didn't understand He-Who-Must- ugh, that was too long to think. He was just going to call him Tom, he probably had a common name like Tom or Harry or Constantius anyway. Maybe that was why he didn't want to be named, he just didn't like his name but then Aurelius wondered why he didn't just pick a different name. Unless the wizarding world had been the ones to unname him, in which case he wondered why Tom was okay with that.

If he was a Dark Lord who had gone through the process of coming up with a cool new name, he thought he'd be quite upset to just be unnamed. He didn't think he'd make a good Dark Lord though, he liked color too much and he certainly was against killing people just for being different, he was rather against killing people in general. Why did they only ever get Dark Lords anyway? Why not someone nice, a Light Lord? That sounded cool, Aurelius liked that. He wondered what a Light Lord would even be like...

_TAP!_

Aurelius jumped in shock, falling off his bed and hitting the cold marble fall painfully. He crawled under the bed in terror, his body already trembling fearfully. No, no, no, no, no. _Not_ again, he'd had enough for the night, for a lifetime even but just not again. He lay there a moment shaking, frozen in place as he peered in the direction of the door to look for feet as he listened.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

He scowled in confusion, what was with that tapping sound? Was his mother so drunk she forgot how to open a door? It wasn't like they were a knocking family anyway, he had to knock but his parents could just barge in as they pleased. The house-elves could too, on his father's commands but they tended not to need to with their special house-elf apparating and all.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap_.

It just kept on tapping. Come to think of it, it didn't even sound like knocking on wood. In fact, it didn't even sound like it was coming from the direction of the door. He cautiously crawled out from under his bed and went over to the window, pulling open the thick velvet drapes. He hated them closed but his mother always shut them.

It was an owl, he saw. Pecking at the window to be let in, clutching a roll of parchment in its talons. He fumbled with the latch to let it in, admiring the way it swooped over him. He wished he could fly, he'd always wished he could fly. To just be able to soar through the air and be free, he thought it must be amazing and had always envied that ability. It was why he wanted to be animagus someday, it would be cool regardless to get to see the world from another creatures eyes but damn, he would love to be able to fly. Not on a broom for sport, he didn't like that but to just... well fly, it looked wonderful.

The bird squawked loudly, apparently also not a fan of his zoning out and ignoring the fact it had deposited it's parchment on his bed. It took off as he approached, swooping back over his head and out into the night. He sighed wistfully, oh how he wished he was that bird and he could fly away from here too. Why would it even waste it's time here? Oh right, the letter.

Aurelius turned his attention to the letter, feeling a giddy surge of excitement as his attention shifted for that. He almost never got letters over the holidays, it couldn't be his parents so who else would be writing for him? Was it Mary? Had she changed her mind about dumping him? Was it one of his roommates? Was he finally going to make a friend?

He picked up the paper and his heart did a somersault, already recognizing Mary's very poor untidy handwriting his father would never call acceptable for his name. He clutched the paper to his chest, unable to stop the smile on his face but also trying not to get ahead of himself. Just because she was writing to him, it didn't mean she wanted to get back together. Maybe she... Well he couldn't think of any other reason unless maybe she just wanted to be friends. He could live with friends, he could live with anything. Didn't she know how much he loved her? He'd give her anything, anything she wanted, any amount of money she desired. Anything just to not be alone. He took a deep breathe and unrolled the paper.

_Aurelius,_

_I know I broke up with you and we haven't seen each other in months but it would really mean a lot to me if you could meet me tonight, I'll wait for you outside the gates of your home for fifteen minutes. I know you probably hate me but please, I ever meant anything to you come outside now._

_Mary Hawker_

She wanted to see him? She really wanted to see him? He skipped over to his closet, practically tripping over his own feed in his rush to get dressed. His clothes all looked the same in the dark, he just pulled on whatever and wondered excitedly what random combination of colors he was now wearing because it usually took forever to pick and-

Dammit! He needed to focus. Focus, focus, focus. Or he might screw up last chance with her and then he'd die alone, he didn't want to die alone. He took a deep breath and ran back into his bathroom, throwing some water at his face to wash away his tears and try hide the fact he'd been crying. Not wanting to be late, he bolted through the long empty hallways and was thankful his room was far enough away from both his parents' separate rooms that the sound of his footsteps was unlikely to wake them.

He knew he should probably be scared but adrenaline flooded his blood, he'd never snuck out of his mansion before to meet the love of his life. It was rather exciting. He slipped out of the back and ran, wishing he could run faster but he was unhelpfully small and skinny for his age. He used the secret spot in the wall to avoid having to open the gate then just ran breathlessly all the way around the wall, also wishing the wall wasn't so damn big. Why did they need so much space anyway? It wasn't like-

_FOCUS! _he screamed at himself, he definitely had to focus. He skidded to a halt outside the gate, literally in the mud beneath the snow or icy ground, whichever it was. His eyes skimmed the darkness, looking for the light of her wand as he assumed she'd be using _Lumos_ like he would be if he was actually of age like she was. He stood panting but saw nothing, surely she wasn't just standing here in the dark? Unless he feared being caught by his parents.

"I'm here!" Aurelius called out desperately into the night which greeted him with silence, "Mary, I came just like you wanted! I'm here now!"

Silence.

He shivered in the cold night air, wrapping his arms around himself somewhat for warmth. He couldn't have gotten it wrong, the time was about right and she'd said here. Where was she? Had she stood him up? Had she died? Had she just wanted to crush his spirits? What was happening? The silent darkness gave no answer.

"I'm here," he reiterated more quietly but only the wind replied, "_Please_."

He stood there alone in the silent darkness, hugging his quickly freezing body as the icy breeze glided through him. He felt the hope bleed out for him and the cold numb the adrenaline, making him all the more aware of his own isolation. He fought back the urge to cry, sure the only reason he wasn't already was because he just had been. She wasn't coming, no one was coming and he was clearly the butt of someone's joke again. No one was ever going to come.

He turned to begin trudging back only to hear a cry, he froze in surprise. He was pretty sure that wasn't him, he wasn't yet and he'd certainly learned not to cry loudly. The voice cried out again and he turned back, now he was sure it wasn't him and it didn't sound like Mary either. It cried again. Cautiously, he started to creeping towards the sound through the handful of decrepit trees scattered about. He probably should be afraid again but he was curious and concern that someone might be hurt somehow trumped it, he'd like to think someone would help him if he was injured and crying in the dark for some reason.

"Hello? Who's there?" Aurelius questioned nervously as he drew closer to the intermittent crying until he spotted something.

Basking in a sliver of silvery moonlight - almost as if placed deliberately to draw attention to it - was a rather small basket, the crying was come from it. Had someone left a injured animal here or something? Was this part of the prank? Was he dreaming? This was all very bizarre. He crouched by the basket and peered inside, jolting in shock as he saw it was a baby with a note bearing his name resting on its chest. He shakily picked up the letter, recognizing Mary's handwriting once more and flicked it open.

_Aurelius,_

_Here's your son. Take good care of him._

_Mary_

Aurelius read the short message several times, the words bouncing off his numb mind and not sinking it. He couldn't comprehend it. She'd been pregnant? _He_ had a _child_? Why wouldn't she tell him that? He'd have supported her, heck he'd have married her for the sake of the child. And the baby was still crying. What was he even supposed to do with a baby? He didn't know anything about them, he didn't think he'd ever met a baby. He slumped onto the ground beside the baby, the paper falling from his fingers while the baby still cried. He'd have to do something, the poor thing was clearly upset about something.

He looked down at the baby properly for the first time, an identically colored pair of oddly sized and angled dark chestnut eyes red from crying caught his own immediately and his heart just melted. This was his son, his own flesh and blood child. Carefully, he scooped the little bundle of blankets into his arms drinking in the sight of his son's face. He was adorable with his lopsided mouth and big squishy nose, big ears of differing heights that jutted out of a misshapen angular skull all patchy with extremely dark auburn hair the same shade as the waves falling from Aurelius' own skull. The little feet sticking out of the blankets were clubbed with only four oddly placed toes on each foot at random lengths and angles, a little six fingered hand also with oddly lengthen and angled fingers clutched at his hand as the cries came to a juddering halt.

He didn't know if all babies were supposed to look so odd but he didn't care, his son was perfect to him and the instant rush of love he felt was so overwhelming it drowned out all other emotion. He didn't even fear his parents or care this was supposed to be his OWL year, this was _his_ son and he was going to take care of him no matter what they said. He wanted to take care of him and protect him and make sure he was happy, have a better life then Aurelius had had.

"H-Hi," Aurelius stammered out shakily, smiling at his son through tears he hadn't realized had crept from his eyes while the boy just gazed up at him, "My name's Aurelius, I-I'm your... I'm your... I'm your d-d... I'm your dad. That is so weird to say but I'm your dad, I'm really your dad. Y-You can call me 'Dad' if you want."

The baby said nothing although Aurelius didn't think babies could talk, he just continued staring up at his face as if trying to drink in his appearance as intently as Aurelius was. Maybe he was, Aurelius didn't know what babies thought but he liked to think the fact his son had stopped crying was a good sign. He wondered what the baby thought of him, did he like him? Did he hate him? Did he think he looked funny? Was he annoyed he had taken so long to get him? Did he feel the same rush of love Aurelius felt? Was he cold? Was he scared of the dark? Aurelius didn't feel cold anymore, he didn't feel alone with his child. He cuddled his little boy close, wanting nothing more then to hold him close forever and keep him safe from all the cold and shadows of the night.

"It's okay, you don't have to speak. You can listen if you'd like, some people don't like to. They say I ramble on and it annoys them, it used to annoy your mother and your grandparents. My thoughts are rambling like that, do your thoughts ramble like that? Do babies even have thoughts? I don't know, I would assume so even if it's not quite the same. What do you think?" Aurelius said to his son as he glanced back down to him, the baby continued looking up at him silently making Aurelius' smile widen. He was just so adorable, his son who he already loved so much, more then his parents had ever loved him. He swallowed as more tears rolled down his cheeks before lifting his son and kissing his forehead gently, "I'd like you to listen to this one thing though, baby- I really should name you, shouldn't I? Or do you already have a name? Did Mary- No, let me finish my thought."

His son gurgled and Aurelius lowered him back down, rather shakily as the baby was heavier then he looked. The baby gripped at his hand once more with his minuscule six fingered one, his eyes focusing on his face once more.

"I want you to know that I love you," Aurelius whispered to his child the words is parents had never uttered to him, caressing his cheek lovingly with his thumb as the tears rolled down his cheeks, "I want you to know your dad loves you, I love you so much and I only just laid eyes on you like five minutes ago. That's how precious you are to me, you'll always be loved no matter what happens. Don't ever forgot that, okay? If you don't remember a single other thing I ever say, just remember that you're loved. Your daddy loves you."

His son cooed and whinged, fidgeting in his arms as if uncomfortable in the cold.

"Come on," Aurelius decided, unsteadily pulling himself to his feet but continuing to smile welcomingly at his son, "Let's get you inside, you have a whole house to see."


	15. VII: Antonius Ashain - His Only Sorting

_**Thanks to:** Colin Creevey and TheGreatAthlon5 for reviewing!_

**_Questions:_**

**_He (Aurelius) was 14 when he conceived what is clearly Brutus and Mary 17?_**  
_Correct_

**_Whatever happened to Mary? Dead, I'm guessing? And if she is, does Aurelius know?_**  
_She's alive, eventually moved to America to escape the war. Aurelius knows she was alive and went to the US but didn't keep tabs on her after that_

**_Whatever did the Master of All-Evil-House-Elves/He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named 2.0 do about Brutus? I'm surprised he didn't kill Aurelius for treachery and Brutus for his mere existence?_**  
_At this point Corvinus still believed he should have an heir as it was the proper pure blood thing to do, if he killed Aurelius he'd have to go through the trouble of getting another and after having a squib son he was paranoid of another squib. He encouraged Aurelius to drown Brutus in a river and pretend to be unaware of his existence if anyone asked but Aurelius refused and swore he'd go to the ministry if he killed Brutus, he instead refused to offer aid in the hopes putting up with caring for a child alone would make Aurelius want to drown him but when it became clear Aurelius wouldn't he sent him back to Hogwarts and paid for childcare deciding the shame of a child out of wedlock was less then not getting OWLs and dropping out of Hogwarts. When Brutus was old enough to crawl, he tried to kill him making it look like an accident but Aurelius caught on and swore he'd go to the ministry if something even accidentally happened to Brutus and he didn't want to risk their investigation especially with his other kills so he was forced to accept Brutus was too risky to kill, he instead tried to fix the deformity but as it caused Brutus great pain Aurelius stopped him again so he just had to live with it_

**_How the hell can he (Atticus) move after that? How can he turn his head to look at his mom? How can he even think through that pain?_**  
_A combination really that I imagine magical people are just a bit more naturally resilient then muggles (and Ashains especially due to being Ashylos' descendants) and artistic license, its his perspective and it would be boring to read if I couldn't describe anything happening _

* * *

_September 1st 2023, (VII: Chapter 6)_

"Ashain, Antonius!"

Antonius froze frightfully, feeling his heart starting to beat furiously against his chest. He knew he'd be quite early on due to his last name beginning with 'A' but still, he hadn't expected to be the _very_ first. Regardless he took a breath, trying to compose himself as he approached the stool. He heard Cassia give him an encouraging whoop and Astor gave him an encouraging smile, giving him a comforting pat on the back as well as he sat down. He took another breath, squeezing his eyes shut to try brace himself as the hat was lowered onto his head.

_Please be Ravenclaw, please be Ravenclaw_, he begged mentally.

But… nothing. Dammit hat. Antonius resisted the urge to sigh, he'd heard Orous' sorting had taken ages but he'd still kind of hoped things would have improved since then. He opened his eyes, feeling embarrassed at how long he was taking. He hadn't even heard the hat speak yet but he'd already been sitting there for the longest time it took most others to be sorted, the silence was deafening and the students' eyes were piercing.

"_Oh, not another one_," a voice appeared in his mind and Antonius had to make an effort not to jump in surprise at the suddenness of hearing it speak.

"It's not my fault," Antonius protested before trying to bite back his annoyance, he wanted the hat to put him in Ravenclaw not put him somewhere else just because he was rude, "Just please put me in Ravenclaw."

Silence. More silence… finally the hat chuckled.

"_It doesn't work like that, child. Now the attitude however would very well hint at where you belong_."

"Does that mean you'll put me in Ravenclaw?" Antonius wondered hopefully.

"_We'll see..."_ the hat mused and fell silent for a while once more, "_Well we can rule out Slytherin, I don't see that in you_."

"Good. I want Ravenclaw, please," Antonius pleaded again, feeling very aware of the slowness of his sorting which the hat had to be aware of too, "If you just put me in Ravenclaw it would speed this up too, you know?"

"_My obligation is to put you in the house best for you, not one at random just to be faster. And if I were to pick one at random, for the record, it would be Hufflepuff because she was accepting of all._"

"I don't think I'm really Hufflepuff material," Antonius muttered, not disliking the house but just wanting Ravenclaw. Like his dad.

"_I disagree_," the hat countered and Antonius felt his blood run fearfully colder, "_From what I see you have loyalty. A fierce loyalty to your friends, to your family, to the ones you love."_

"But I'd also doubt them and... and be willing to destroy the soul of an innocent man for a chance of stopping the Shadow Master," Antonius admitted guiltily, thinking of his willingness to destroy Alaric' soul for Florian's plan.

"_But still loyal to your cause and took bravery to do what you did, besides why do you want Ravenclaw anyway if not for loyalty to your father?"_ the hat wondered and Antonius couldn't really think of a defense to that, "_But actually no, you may make a good Hufflepuff but I'm not sure it's the best house for you_."

"Ravenclaw?" Antonius wondered hopefully and the hat fell silent for a long while again.

"_You have intelligence, certainly and would make a good Ravenclaw but also great courage... No, your mind is sharp but I see your heart and your heart lies in... GRYFFINDOR!"_

There was a moment of delayed reaction to the slow sorting before applause broke out, his friends were cheering as he headed over to them feeling his heart crushed. He didn't have the courage to look at his family, quite ironically considering his house. Stupid hat, stupid broken soul that clearly had made it not read him correctly. He attempted a smile though, not wanting to hurt his friends' feelings and make them think he didn't want to be around them. He _did_... he just wanted to be around them as a Ravenclaw, it's not like he'd have classes with them or share a dormitory due to their different years anyway. Scorpius gave him a half hug as he sat down beside him, his friends all smiling at his disappointment. He'd never be a Ravenclaw now, never have that connection to his dad...

"Welcome to Gryffindor," Albus offered brightly.


	16. V: Patience & Prosper Blackbourne - Last

_**Author's Note:** Thanks so much to Colin Creevey! This is the first of five Extra Gray's being uploaded today (and hopefully the next main chapter will be too), this one is a little different format then I usually do so I hope you like it_

* * *

_April 2022, (V: Chapter 17)_

"Grandpa! Grandpa!" Patience Blackbourne cried in panic, tearing through the violently shaking house with her small heart beating in frantic terror and clutching her stuffed Griffin Snugglor for dear life, "Grandpa! Grandpa!"

She finally reached the kitchen and gasped in horror, stepping back as she it was in ruin with hole in the side of the house showing off the dark sky outside despite it being day. That wasn't what upset her though, what upset her was her Grandpa lying in the ruin. His body a mangled mess under rocks and blood still dribbling out of his open mouth, his eyes sightlessly gazed through the broken glasses hanging off his face.

"Not again, not again, not again," Patience sobbed under her breath as she backed away, racing unsteadily back the way she had come and clutching Snugglor ever closer.

First her dad, then her mum and big sister... Now her grandpa, it was happening again. It was happening all over again. She wished Prosper was there, her brother always made her feel safe, always looked out for her. She tripped and fell, partially from the unsteady ground throwing her off and partially from the horrific thought of losing him too. She hoped he was okay back in Hogwarts, she could only hope he was okay as she scrambled back up.

She ran to her room still in tears over her grandpa, her heart still beating itself in fear. This was how it was when the Shadows attacked, chaos and death then they'd be sending the werewolves in next. Not the werewolves. She squeezed her eyes shut, both against the tears and the memories of watching her mother and sister being torn apart alive, screaming in agony all the while. _Please_, not the werewolves.

Patience grabbed the music box off the bedside table and the blanket she'd had since before she could remember, running to her closer and crawling in. She closed the door behind her and curled up in a ball, shaking as violently as the world was in her terror. She wrapped herself in the blanket and opened the music box before cuddling Snugglor close as the lullaby her mother had sung to her played, she closed her bleary eyes on the Griffins flying around the sleeping girl in the music box. She tried to be brave as the world shook around her, trying to drown herself in soothing song to imagine herself somewhere else, anywhere else safe with her family...

* * *

_September 30th 2020_

_Dear Prosper,_

_How are you doing? Is Hogwarts okay so far? Are your scars still hurting? It's me, Patience here. I know I don't usually write to you, Mummy used to but Mummy's gone now and I really miss you. Grandpa says I should try writing to you so I hope you don't mind, I can always stop if you mind._

_It was a really sad day today, it was Tempy's birthday or it should have been. Can you believe Temperance would have been of age today? Like a all grown up of age and everything. But she's not, she's dead. Like Mummy and Daddy. I still keep getting bad dreams about the werewolves killing them, Grandpa doesn't come running to me like you did though because he is part deaf and doesn't hear even if I wake up screaming. He told me to wake him up if I have a bad dream but I can't, it seems rude so I just lay there crying. Sometimes I'm so scared I can't move, I'm so scared the werewolves will come and get us. They attacked Hogsmeade before what is to stop them attacking us again? Nothing. No one is protecting us form werewolves. Do you still get bad dreams in Hogwarts, Prosper? I'm scared of sleeping now._

_Anyway, since today was Tempy's birthday she should've come of age Grandpa and Uncle Pegasus bought her a pocket watch she would have got. They let me help pick the design, I got her one with a flower on it. She liked flowers, I hope she would have liked it. We put it on her grave for her and put fresh flowers there, on Mummy and Daddy's graves too. It's so quiet there, Prosper, no sound because there's no life._

_It's not fair, why did Tempy have to die? Or Mummy? Or Daddy? What did they ever do to the werewolves or the Shadows or whoever? Why do people have to die? Why do all the people we love have to die? I couldn't stop crying. I feel so sad, Prosper, and I miss them so much. I wish you were here or that I was old enough to go to Hogwarts already, you always make me feel better._

_I hope things are better for you in Hogwarts. And safer (for serious, Prosper, don't die. I don't know what I'd do if you died too, there's been too much dying)._

_Love you super lots,_

_Patience xxx_

* * *

_November 24th 2020_

_Dear Prosper,_

_You're the best brother ever and I love you! I love my birthday present, I've never even seen a cuddly Griffin before but I love it! I never knew that Griffins were so cute! But still strong. I named him Snugglor, what do you think? I tried to pick something cute but that still reflects his powerful side. I will do what you say, hopefully I can sleep better with Snugglor. If he helps me maybe I can get you a guardian cuddly toy for Christmas then we can both have nice dreams again, or at least dreams without werewolves._

_I'm sorry Hogwarts is sadder for you when your friends died, I forgot they died in the werewolves attacking as well. They killed Mummy and Tempy and your friends, werewolves are the worst. I wish I was old enough to go to Hogwarts, I'm almost old enough now that I'm ten. I'm practically old enough, do you think if I wrote to the Headmaster he would let me go early? I am really smart, Grandpa says I'm really good on my literacy and numeracy so that's got to be good right?_

_Well thanks again, Prosper, I really do love Snugglor and I can't wait to see you soon for Christmas even if it's going to be weird without Mummy and Tempy. Oh and ignore that Chastity woman, counsellors sound evil. If anyone is stupid and ugly it's her, you're the best big brother in the world and she's a meany._

_Love you lots and lots,_

_Patience xxx_

* * *

_February 14th 2021_

_Dear Prosper,_

_How is Hogwarts now? Is it any better for you? I'm still having bad dreams about the werewolves but Snugglor is helping me, hugging him after a bad dream does make me feel better. Are you sure you don't want one? I don't see why your roommates would make fun of you. I hope my roommates are nice when I get to go Hogwarts, I wouldn't want them to make fun of Snugglor. I don't know how I would sleep without him._

_Anyway, it was Ariella's birthday today and Uncle Virgil threw her a party so I had to go since she's our cousin and all. I don't see why when Uncle Pegasus' kids didn't have to go, Uncle Pegasus says they couldn't because they had been too naughty and had to be punished by staying at home. Grandpa says its Aunt Mary's fault they are so naughty, he said Uncle Pegasus can do better than a stupid ugly slut who can't keep her own children in check. Then he said to pretend he hadn't said that I don't think he meant from you. I wanted to ask what a slut is anyway and why is Aunt Mary one?_

_Grandpa didn't seem in a happy mood and he got angry when Ariella's called Aunt Althea 'Mum' like really angry, he said his daughter was her real mother not Althea and calling Althea 'Mum' was an insult to her memory. He said she died giving Ariella life and shouldn't be forgotten and then he just broke down crying that all his daughters were dead and his wife and he missed them, it ruined the whole party and everyone was upset. Well except Uncle Pegasus but he's never upset. We has to leave early then, Uncle Pegasus took us home and stayed to calm Grandpa down._

_I guess it shows death is harder for everyone not just me, it makes me feel sad. I miss you, Prosper, I wish you were here but at least you're not dead too. Look forward to you coming home to me and Grandpa for Easter._

_Love from a your very last sister,_

_Patience xxx_

_(PS: Do you know I didn't even get any cake?)_

* * *

_April 22nd 2021_

_To Prosper,_

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY!_

_Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday!_

_I just wrote this song to say:_

_Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday!_

_Hope you have a great time today!_

_Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday!_

_Can't believe you're fifteen today!_

_Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday!_

_Love you lots every day!_

_Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday!_

_Happy Birthday, Prosper! (In case you didn't get the message by now. I hope you like the song, I made it up all by myself. And this card, I don't have money to buy you a present so this is the best I can do)._

_Lots of love and hugs,_

_Patience xxx_

_(and Snugglor. And Grandpa says to write his name too)_

* * *

_May 2nd 2021_

_Dear Prosper,_

_Can you believe it's been three years since Daddy died? The Shadows killed him at that memorial, I don't remember it that well but I remember how bad I felt when I heard he was dead. It's funny in a sad way, I remember thinking nothing could ever hurt as much as losing Daddy. But now Mummy and Tempy are dead too and I actually saw them die with my own eyes, torn apart by the werewolves._

_Am I a bad person for feeling like Daddy dying wasn't as bad? At least he didn't hurt so bad, he didn't die screaming. And we still had Mummy and Tempy, it was hard and it hurt but I felt like we'd be okay in the end. It's easier to remember Daddy without hurting and crying, the good memories don't get drowned by the bad death memories. It's weird though, I can remember the good times but I can't remember Daddy's face unless I look at a picture. Am I a bad person for that?_

_I don't know but thinking about it makes me sad, I do miss Daddy and I love him. Like Mummy and Tempy. I love Grandpa a lot but it's not the same living with him, I miss our home and our happy life before when we were a real family not just you, me and Grandpa._

_I don't remember what my point was, I just feel sad and I miss you._

_Loads of love,_

_Patience xxx_

* * *

_June 6th 2021_

_Dear Prosper,_

_Thank you for your letter, it made me feel better about Daddy. This day is even worse though, it's a whole year since Mummy and Tempy died. I can't believe it, I really can't. It feels like it was just yesterday they were dying in front of us, I still hear their screams in my mind- I still hear all of their screams, Prosper, and I still see them did in the nightmares. Snugglor makes me feel better about them but I still have the bad dreams about the werewolves, it still makes me cry a lot and now those people against werewolves were murdered there's nothing to protect us from the monsters all over again._

_Will it ever stop hurting, Prosper? Will it ever stop hurting that they're dead? Will the bad dreams ever stop? Will the werewolves ever let us be in peace? If they wanted to hurt us, they succeeded. I hope they're happy. Please come home soon, I miss you._

_Lots of love,_

_Patience xxx_

* * *

_September 1st 2021_

_Dear Prosper,_

_I know you just left and this is really soon but I still, the important news is that it's official! In exactly one year (or twelve months, yes I am counting!) I will be starting Hogwarts! Just like you, I'm so excited. I'll finally be with you and you can show me Hogwarts stuff and it won't matter that your friends died, you'll have me._

_Can I tell you a secret? My Grandpa really wants me make Slytherin like him but I don't, I'm hoping for a different how use. I want to be a Hufflepuff, just like you Prosper._

_Oh and best of luck with studying for your OWLs this year, I'm sure you'll do great._

_Love Patience xxx_

* * *

_October 31st 2021_

_Dear Prosper,_

_Only eleven months to go until Hogwarts now, I still can't wait._

_But anyway, this letter isn't as happy as last time. It was Halloween today (obviously) and kids trick or treat (obviously) and (I went as a Griffin obviously, my favorite creature)... well, this one kid was dressed as a werewolf (who does that in Hogsmeade after what they did?!)_

_I know it wasn't real but I still got so scared, all I could think of was the real thing killing our family like it was all I could see. I started screaming and when Grandpa touched me arm (you know where there's the scars were that werewolf hurt me) I felt like I was being attacked, I just ran away. I ran all the way home, not our home now where we live with Grandpa but our old home, our real home. Or were it used to be, it's been rebuilt as someplace else now. I think I frightened the people living there when I fell at their door crying._

_I felt like I was doing so well but not anymore, I feel so sad and scared and stupid. Really stupid, I mean who acts like that? I'm almost eleven, I'm a big girl. I shouldn't be so weak and I shouldn't still be upset, it's pathetic and wasn't even a real werewolf! Grandpa doesn't want to talk about it so I wanted to talk to you, I think he's ashamed of me. I'm ashamed of me. Hope you're doing better than I am._

_Love from your pathetic sister,_

_Patience xxx_

* * *

_November 24th 2021_

_Dear Prosper,_

_Only ten months to go now and I'm officially eleven too! Although I wish I had been born sooner so I could be in Hogwarts already._

_Thank you for my birthday present! I love it so much, you're the best Prosper I don't know how you do it. The music box is beautiful, I love the pattern and colors and when you open it up how the little Griffins fly around the sleeping girl when the music is playing. And the song... I always thought Mummy made up that lullaby, it's amazing you managed to find this, I feel like it was made for me. I feel safe just listening to it._

_And I'm feeling better now too, your letters did help. You always know what to say, I don't deserve a brother as great as you looking out for me. Thank you so much and I look forward to seeing you soon._

_All the love in the world,_

_Patience xxx_

* * *

_January 12th 2022_

_Dear Prosper,_

_Only eight months to go now until Hogwarts and it's finally the right year too! It's so close I can taste it._

_So today was Uncle Pegasus' birthday, Grandpa threw him a surprise party for that and to celebrate that promotion he got to Head of the Department of Transportation. Uncle Pegasus sure was surprised. I got to see our rarely seen cousins, you're not missing much. They're basically just like Ariella's little brother and sister just even worse behaved, plus Amadeus is just creepy. He never talks and always wears a mask, it's not normal. It probably is Aunt Mary's fault they're so bad, I mean it can't be Uncle Pegasus' when he's so successful and she's... not. Oh that reminds me, we're going to have another baby cousin_

_The party was alright, apart from the weird cousins. Uncle Pegasus had a chocolate cake, it was delicious and he let me have extra because not all his kids were good enough for cake and he even let me have a slice for you. It was nice to see Grandpa in such a good mood too because he does seem sad sometimes._

_Well that's what's up here, how are you? Is your OWLs going okay?_

_Lots of love and cake,_

_Patience xxx_

* * *

_February 14th 2022_

_Dear Prosper,_

_Only seven months until Hogwarts, that's almost half a year only!_

_It was Ariella's tenth birthday today, you'd think after last year Grandpa and I wouldn't have been invited but we were although Uncle Pegasus' children were still too naughty to be allowed. It went better than last year, it was kind of boring really but I did get cake this time. She seemed to have finally realized her birthday is on Valentine's Day so had her cake shaped like a heart._

_I don't know why, all that lovey-dovey stuff is gross. Don't couples know how silly they look? Why would you want to be all kissy with someone anyway? I don't get it. Do you have a girlfriend? If you do I won't make fun of you... much, long as you don't act all weird. And don't give up, tests are hard but long as you do your best I bet you can do good in your OWLs._

_Love you lots,_

_Patience xxx_

* * *

_March 4th 2022_

_Dear Prosper,_

_Only six months until Hogwarts now, just half a year!_

_Okay so something strange happened today, I came down and saw Grandpa crying. I didn't know what to do, he was just sitting there crying. I finally worked up the courage to go up to him and ask him what was wrong and he said it was Mummy's birthday today and he missed her and the others in the family who is dead, I didn't know what to say so I just hugged him. He talked about Mummy when she was little and his other daughters and his wife, he was so sad._

_I'm worried about him, Prosper, what should I do? I've been sleeping better since I started listening to your music box before bed, I have bad dreams about werewolves less and when I do I have Snugglor. I try not to think about Mummy, Daddy and Tempy being dead, it still hurts but I think it gets a little easier especially when I think about other things. I feel bad that Grandpa hasn't been feeling more better like I have. Do you still get bad dreams, Prosper? I don't think I've asked in a while._

_I guess it's good you're focusing on OWLs not social living, you only get seven years of Hogwarts but your whole life for friendships and romance. I miss you still._

_Love you,_

_Patience xxx_

* * *

_April 22nd 2022_

_To Prosper,_

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY!_

_Happy Birthday big brother, now you're sixteen. Just one more year until you're an of age grown up too, it's kind of scary but kind of cool too, huh? Only five months now until I'll be at Hogwarts with you, I'll be able to be with you for your birthday when you do come of age. I can't wait._

_No song this time, I couldn't think of one. I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I'm really happy that you got born and are my brother, I don't know what I'd do without you. Good luck with your OWLs, I have faith you'll do great even if you worry about it, you worry about me a lot after all but I'm doing okay. Hope you have a good birthday, you deserve it._

_Lots of love, hugs and kisses,_

_Patience xxx_

_(and Grandpa)_

* * *

"Okay, we're ready," the man from the Ministry said.

Prosper Blackbourne looked up shakily from rereading his sister's letters, swallowing fearfully and hoping against hope that those weren't the last words he'd read from her. She only had five more months until Hogwarts, she was so excited for it. They had to be wrong, they just... they just had to be wrong.

He stood up on trembling legs and ignored the aching wounds he had from fighting to defend Hogwarts, folding the letters and pocketing them as he followed the man. The body was full of people shaped lumps covered by white sheets, some with fingers or toes sticking out. They were still in the aftermath of a disaster, neatness probably wasn't their top priority right now. He followed grimly before the man stopped by one of the sheets, he glanced at the roll of parchment in his hand as if to check he had the right one before looking back to him.

"Are you ready?" the man asked as he withdrew his wand and Prosper nodded numbly, gritting his teeth he was too afraid to even breathe as the sheet was magically moved back. He choked on a sob as he saw his baby sister lying there, she... she looked like she could sleeping. His knees felt like they could give out any second and he cringed with watery eyes, wanting to wake up from this nightmare right now, "Is this your sister?"

"Yes. That's her, that's Patience," Prosper whispered weakly through the lump in his throat, he buried his scarred face in his hands as he started to cry brokenly. Not her, not his little sister. Now he'd lost all of them.


	17. III: Flannery Leebin - Turn in the Night

_**Author's Note:** Thanks so much to TheGreatAthlon5 for reviewing! And the last part of the last chapter takes place the same day, Patience died in the Shadow attack in book 5 and he just had to identify her body after  
_

**_Questions:_**

**_Why did we never see him (Prosper) in the main series? Was it because scorpius was just that oblivious to people around him?_**  
_Yes, you never see him because Scorpius pays so little attention to the people around him unless they have reason to cross paths and they just didn't_

_**Did he (Prosper) ever actually finish his OWL's or did he instantly decide to join paw?** _  
_He failed his OWLs that year, he was too grief-stricken to focus and failed so he had to repeat Fifth Year instead of starting Sixth like Scorpius did. He was deeply unhappy, he had a terrible year and after Michael turned Hugo his fear/hate of werewolves reignited and he looked into joining PAW. He retook his OWLs but he'd stopped caring about them by then, he ran away over the summer to join PAW rather then returning to Hogwarts_

* * *

_July 5th 2020 (III: Chapter 17)_

"And then they lived happily ever after," Flannery Leebin concluded the bedtime story he'd been reading to his young daughter who was nestled against him peering eagerly at the pages, "The end."

"Aw, I wanna know what happens," Maurene complained as he closed the book, Flan chuckled to himself.

"That's the end of the story, that's how it ends."

"But if they live for happy ever after some stuff must happens, Daddy," Maurene insisted as he got off the bed, putting the book back down on the bedside table, "So what happens?"

"Use your imagination," Flan offered, popping off her glasses and folding them on top of the book so she could grab them easily when she woke up, "Whatever you think will give them a happily ever after is what they do."

"Huh," Maurene mused thoughtfully, cuddling one of her stuffed toys as he tucked her back in, "Can they build a floating castle and ride unicorns on clouds?"

"Sure."

"Can they eat ice cream every days for dinner for the rest of their lifes?"

"Sure."

"Can they-"

"Why don't you think of what they do while you're sleeping and tell me in the morning?" Flan suggested, he needed to check on his wife and Maurene did need to get some sleep, "Mummy is still feeling poorly so I have to go tuck her in now."

"Okay, Daddy," Maurene agreed with a yawn as he finished tucking her in and her eyes flickered closed, "Say night-night to Mummy for me."

"I will, sweetheart," Flan promised and kissed her on the forehead, "Night-night."

"Night-night, Daddy."

Flan made his way out of the room carefully, turning off the light and closing the door to so his daughter could sleep. He yawned himself and rubbed his eyes, almost wishing he could sleep but alas he was oddly wide awake at the same time and had too much to do. The house needed a lot of work in the wake of the damage caused by the werewolf army attacking and the more they did himself the less broke they'd be which was especially useful with a baby on the way, structurally it was sound but internally there was still a lot to do. First though, he did need to check on his wife.

He made his way along the corridor which actually had been painted, heading into his bedroom which wasn't so painted. It was rife with dust sheets, falling off the ladder he'd been using to paint the ceiling with paint tubs and paintbrushes still lying around. There was a lone surviving chest of drawers in the corner with clothes still strewn atop it since Myriam had wanted to try get something to match the chest of draws meaning there wasn't enough storage for the clothes they had, their room hadn't been as high priority as making sure Maurene was alright. It had a bed which was the important thing, the bed that Myriam was curled up in.

"Hey," Flan greeted her gently, approaching as her eyes flicked open, "How you feeling, Myr?"

"Still pretty bad," she admitted weakly, half sitting up as he sat on the bed beside her and put his arm around her to comfort her. She leaned against him heavily for support, pressing her head in the crook of his neck as he rubbed her shoulder soothingly, "I don't even feel ill exactly, just... just so weak. I feel exhausted even though I've slept most of today, I don't know why. It wasn't like this when I was pregnant with Maurene."

"Maybe it's to do with the werewolf wound," Flan suggested, she'd seemingly been bitten in the attack but not turned leaving them to think she had just been stabbed by its claws but a month of healing it definitely looked more like a bite so maybe it just hadn't been deep enough to put venom on her or something. He didn't know, they hadn't given it much thought with rebuilding the house and realizing they'd succeeded in trying to get pregnant, "Whatever it is werewolf wounds can cause ill effects around the full moon, I thought it was just headaches and a craving for meat but I don't know much about it so it could be weakness too and it is the full moon tonight give or take a day."

"Well I certainly have a craving for meat," Myriam admitted, putting a hand to her stomach which wasn't showing her pregnancy yet, "If I could actually keep anything down with 'morning' sickness and didn't feel too weak to chew, maybe it's that."

"We could always go to St Mungo's."

"I didn't grow up with a Healer an uncle, I don't like going to hospital."

"I know you don't but sometimes it's necessary," Flan pointed out purposely keeping the anxiety out of his voice, holding her closer, "I'm worried about you. And the baby. I don't think you should be this bad."

"Okay," Myriam sighed heavily and rubbed her stomach gently, "Give it _one_ more day, if I don't feel any better I'll go. For the baby's sake."

"Okay," Flan agreed in relief and kissed her head gently, spotting her glass on the bedside was empty, "Would you like some more water?"

"Yes please, I didn't have the strength," Myriam agreed and he took her glass, refilling it magically even if he had to mutter the words. That was one spell he could actually do. He handed her the glass, holding it still while she sipped as her fingers trembled weakly, "Thank you."

"Just yell if you need anything else, okay?" Flan offered as he got up, carefully as she seemed to need his support to sit upright. Surely that wasn't normal? He helped her lie back down in the bed, putting the glass back on the bedside table. Her head lolled already and her eyes closed, if she passed out he was just going to take her to Hogan. She nodded though and squeezed his hand, indicating she was still conscious.

"Aren't you coming to bed?"

"It's not very late, I've only just put Maurene down- she says goodnight by the way - and I want to see if I can get some more stuff done downstairs."

"Okay, just- just don't pick any paint colors okay?" Myriam offered teasingly and he smiled in amusement, his color blindness made him a poor choice in picking colors that didn't look like 'vomit green' apparently. He was glad she was still feeling like herself though, he kissed her in farewell.

"I'll do my best, dear."

He left her to rest and returned back downstairs to continue what he'd been doing before bedtime interrupted, namely building a bookcase so they could stop tripping over the stacks of books littering the house. The downstairs had been painted already, it was more the little things like this left down there. He glanced outside at the darkening sky, it wasn't cold though as he was comfortably warm in just a t-shirt and jeans both covered in paint splatters.

He went back to measuring out the shelves on the wood he was using, made a few attempts at cutting it magically but only succeeded in denting it much to his disappointment. He tried to look on the bright side though, at least he has dented it instead of just... nothing. He had expected it anyway which was why he'd had the brilliant foresight to buy a saw, he could saw much better. He manually started sawing through the wood, cutting out the shelves and structure for the bookcase which hopefully wasn't too loud to not disrupt the girls upstairs. He assumed not or he'd have heard complaints before almost being done, hopefully they were getting some rest. Maybe rest was all Myriam needed and he was just being paranoid-

He froze as his wife's scream sliced through the night, abandoning what he was doing immediately to tear back up the stairs to go to her. Was there another attack? No, he probably would've heard sounds from outside too. Was she in pain? Most likely, he should've just taken her to St Mungo's like he'd wanted to. He should trust his instincts more.

He rushed back into his bedroom and was completely stunned, of all the potential medical complications causing her to scream turning into a werewolf had not crossed his mind. But she was, her body was sprouting and fur and contorted as it grew while she screamed in pain all the while. He didn't... He didn't understand, he didn't see a second werewolf or signs of one having broken in. Why was she turning? The attack had been a month ago, she hadn't transformed then so she shouldn't be now. That was just how it worked, he knew that much. Maybe he was confusing it with something else? What?

"Myr- Myriam?" Flan offered uncertainly and fearfully as the freshly turned dark wolf half-collapsed in the corner whimpering in pain, a part of his mind telling him to run but his instinct was to help the woman he loved. After all, he still wasn't clear on what was happening. "Can you hear me?"

The wolf that was his wife sat up, its heavy breathing turning to a snarl as she turned on him with nostrils flaring and cold yellow eyes focused on him without a sliver of recognition. He should have listened to the part of his mind telling him to run.

She lunged and he tried to throw himself back out of the way, fumbling frantically to draw his wand. He screamed as her claws tore through his guts and the weight of a werewolf landing on his chest caused a painful yet sickening crunching sound, breathing became immediate agony.

She growled, saliva dripping onto his face from the razor sharp teeth as she opened her mouth and leaned in to bite him. He jabbed his wand clunkily at her as best he could, throwing all his energy into the Knockback Jinx because it could very well be the last thing he ever did otherwise... She went flying, landing through the mess of dust sheets and getting tangled up in them.

Flan muttered a silent apology as he heard her thud against the wall painfully, he couldn't dwell on that now though as he struggled to get to his feet. Falling to his knees and crying out in pain once more, his guts were a seething pit of pain pouring blood.

Groaning and gritting his teeth against the pain, he hugged the wound with one arm to try quell the blood flow. If he didn't move he'd die, even if she just turned him these injuries were fatal without treatment.

There was a more pressing concern on his mind though: Maurene. His daughter was still in the house and if Myriam could injure him this badly, he dreaded to think what would be done to a defenseless child. He had to get her out, he still didn't understand _how_ he was in this situation but he understood_ that_.

He staggered in agony towards the door, those few steps suddenly seeming an impossible marathon. He was out of breath as he reached it, each mouthful of air causing ripples of pain in his chest where he was sure ribs had been broken. He was almost there when he heard Myriam snarl more clearly, hear the thud of her bounding back across the floorboards clearly having untangled herself now. Flan jumped for it, grabbing the handle and slamming the door shut behind him as he fell through it but dropped his wand.

He heard a bang as he whimpered in pain on the ground, the arm hugging his stomach was soaking scarlet now. He looked back at the door, seeing it shake as bangs continued with angry snarls. Myriam was trying to get out, of course she was trying to get out. The wood splintered slightly at the front and he knew she'd succeed, he needed to keep moving.

"Maurene," he tried to call but it came out as a weak croak, even that sent dizzying jolts of pain from his chest. Talking was bad, he'd have to go to her because she slept like a rock.

Moaning in pain he hauled himself back to his feet, the world spun around him and he held the wall for support with his free hand. Trying to get his bearings to head to his little girl's room, staggering on unsteady legs as he tried to get to her up the suddenly lengthy corridor while the sounds of the door being torn apart raged behind him.

He pushed through Maurene's door and threw it shut behind him, hearing a bang as Myriam undoubtedly reached it too. He hadn't realized how close she'd been but then he wasn't looking back, he was having a hard enough time looking forward without looking back too. It hurt to walk, it was hard to focus and he was still bleeding badly.

"Daddy?" Maurene wondered in confusion, sitting up sleepily and running her eyes as he approached on legs threatening to give out.

"Come here," he pushed the words out weakly despite the shockwaves of pain, it was pitifully the best he could do to offer explanation or comfort.

"Daddy, what is happens?" her small frightened voice asked but he certainly didn't want to risk explaining, he still didn't even know _how_ this was possible to explain anyway. Why was this happening?!

Flan pulled her into his arms, trying desperately to swallow the pain holding her to his wounded torso caused. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, eyes undoubtedly angled to the banging door. He ignored it though, muttering the spell to counter the anti-apparatiom charms that would prevent him from leaving.

Maurene screamed as the door burst open, Myriam lunged again and Flan - who realized he had dropped his wand some time ago - tried to shift his position to put himself as protectively as he could between mother and daughter to spare Maurene while focusing on apparating. He felt sharp blades rip through his throat before he was shoved through a tube, hearing his daughter screaming as their bodies compressed into blackness.

He thudded to the ground, suddenly blinded by the bright white of St Mungo's interior. Maurene rolled off him and he caught a glimpse of her bloodied face, Myriam must've got her after all and he could only hope the damage wasn't too bad. He gasped for breath but only blood came out, his lungs suddenly screaming for air they couldn't have and darkness consumed his vision even as he heard footsteps of healers rushing to help...

"Don't you _dare_ fucking die on me!" his Uncle Hogan's voice snapped and he felt a stinging slap across his cheek, his eyes flicked open to catch a glimpse of a different ceiling. He was probably in a different part of the hospital, he must be being treated and he noticed his neck was incredibly sore but he was breathing roughly before slipping away again...

When he opened his eyes again, everything felt raw and hurt even breathing was painful but he was alive. Being alive was good. His daughter was curled up beside him sleeping soundly, a bandage on her cheek. He felt a flood of relief she was okay even if she must've been caught by the claw, he felt a pang of guilt at failing to protect her and could only hope Myriam fared better. He turned his head to look around for her cringing at the pain it caused, he wanted to get a good look at his bearings and spotted his uncle sitting beside him. He immediately opened his mouth to ask after Myriam.

"Don't try to speak, your neck's full of stitches," Hogan grumbled at him irritably, glaring at him angrily and Flan closed his mouth obidently, "Bloody idiot. And if your question was about that woman you married, yes she's alive and stable just in another part of the hospital. And yes, she's a werewolf now as is the fetus but that never survives. When a pregnant woman is bitten by a werewolf they don't turn until the _next_ full moon, the fetus has to get turned too so it takes longer. Everyone knows that, how can you work with werewolves and _not_ bloody know that? Idiot. And now you know so make damn sure you fucking remember that for fucking next time so you don't get fucking mauled to death like a fucking moron, got it?!"


	18. VI: James Potter - A Sadistic Mind

_January 2023 (VI: Chapter 9)_

Leebin screamed in agony from the effect of the Cruciatus Curse, his voice starting to sound hoarse he'd been screaming for so long. Long enough, they had to switch in and out of using it to not drive him insane. James dropped the curse and Leebin's broken body slumped as much as possible when hanging up, not by shackles - James was very proud to say - but by hooks. Barbed twists of metal digging into his flesh so even hanging there was painful, writhing from the Cruciatus Curse only causing the hooks to tear him more as did knocking him from whatever injury you wanted to inflict while he was hanging. It was useful, made it easy to hit him from every angle and as James watched the blood oozing from the hook wounds crawling down Leebin's naked body, he was reminded just how damn _good_ Leebin looked from this angle.

"Feel like talking yet?" James questioned, enjoying the view for a second while Leebin hung there. He was trembling from the after effects of the curse and breathing heavily, he still shook his head though and James smirked. He wanted to break him of course but damn if he wasn't thoroughly enjoying himself, "Alright."

James flicked his wand, casting a nonverbal Heavyweight Charm to drop Leebin from the hooks as violently as possible. Leebin shrieked with renewed pain as the hooks tore through him, there was a loud crack as one ripped through his collar bone causing an explosion of blood as the broken bone burst out of the flesh. Some of the hooks stayed in but he didn't care about that, he smiled as Leebin visibly tried to breathe through the pain and let his eyes drift lustfully over Leebin's body. He wasn't muscular at all but James still found himself inexplicably very attracted to the man.

"Let me help you with that," James commented cheerfully and stomped his boot down forcefully onto the jagged pieces of bone jutting out of him to put them back in. Leebin screamed regardless, James waited for it stop before pressing down again to elicit another scream. It was music to his ears, he felt so powerful, so good. He kicked him roughly in the head as he stepped back, "You should be more grateful, it's not healthy to have bones sticking out of you."

Leebin said nothing, still trying to breathe through the pain it seemed. It wasn't like he could do anything anyway, the soles of his feet had been shredded and brutalized so it he couldn't stand without agony. Assuming someone could even stand with legs broken in multiple places, muscles torn and kneecaps that had been shattered into minuscule shards, James was pretty sure he couldn't. He probably should get that collar bone dealt with as it was bleeding a fair amount but the healer had taken a break since he wasn't needed during Cruciatus, he could call them back early but he liked the time alone. So many things he wanted to do to him...

James crouched, grabbing Leebin by the broken collar bone causing another blissful scream, even screaming James liked the sound of his voice. He dragged him to the wall against Leebin's cries of pain and sat his still violently shaking body up against it, it was more in the light so James could look at the wound better. It was just kind of a bloody mess, he dug his nails in and Leebin screamed again. James smiled, he loved how you were supposed to put pressure on wounds to help them, yet it also caused excruciating pain.

He looked away to smirk at Leebin, wanting to see the look on his face but was semi-surprised to find he was on eye level with the man. Leebin had such pretty eyes, a bright shade of cyan that almost seemed to glow in the dark and they were filled with fear and pain. James smiled inwardly to himself, he liked that look in Leebin's eyes and he relished the fact he was the one to cause it. He was strong, he was powerful, he was so powerful and Leebin... Leebin was weak, just weak. But so pretty.

James hadn't realized his other hand had gone to Leebin's face until the man's eyes widened in alarm as he flinched, he felt a rush of anger that Leebin dare flinch. He was the powerful one here, he could do whatever he wanted to him. He was strong and Leebin was not, Leebin was weak and worthless. He dragged his nails through Leebin's collar bone wound as he moved his hand away, causing another scream of pain from Leebin. For once he ignored it though, instead roughly grabbing Leebin's face and pressing his lips against him.

He felt Leebin recoil, only succeeding in bumping his own head slightly against the wall he was sitting against so James could continue to kiss him. When he kissed Chrissy it felt weird and wrong but with Leebin it felt right, even if Leebin wasn't kissing him back. It felt good, so good and sent shockwaves of pleasure through his brain. He pulled away to draw breath, feeling a giddy kind of excitement at the discovery of how good this could be. Leebin tried to turn away but James took a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look back so James could lean in to kiss him again.

"No! Don-"

James ignored Leebin's objections as he locked lips with him again, he wondered what Leebin had been going to say. Chrissy has told him he was a good kisser despite how awful it was, if she believed that when he thought it was bad then Leebin must feel amazing right now when James himself thought it was good. He was clearly either begging him not to stop because he liked it so much or begging him to stop because he felt ashamed to enjoy it since he was sort of married although James told him his family were dead, he bet Leebin's wife never made him feel this way but James had the ring now so he felt perfectly justified. It gave him the right.

He wondered how much better French Kissing would be with Leebin, he slipped his tongue forcefully into Leebin's mouth. To his shock, Leebin bit down. Hard. He yelped in pain as he jolted away, angrily slamming his fist into Leebin's face for his wounded tongue. He felt a rush of rage and tasted blood in his mouth, Leebin had bit him hard enough to draw blood! He smashed his fist into Leebin's face again and again, and again. Pummeling him in fury.

"How dare you!? How dare you?!" James shouted as he let the blows rain down, Leebin feebly tried to raise an arm to defend himself. James grabbed it and twisted it violently until he heard a snap, Leebin cried out in pain and James continued punching violently, "You bit me! You bloody bit me! That hurt! Don't you know how much it hurts to be in pain, you son of a bitch!? What the hell is wrong with you!? I never bit you!"

James stopped punching as he heard another crack, breathing heavily and still shaking with fury. Leebin's head lolled, his face now a bruised swollen mess with blood streaming from his now misshapen nose and tricking out of the corner his mouth bearing a split lip. Leebin tried to look at him, seeming only able to look with one eye and the other couldn't open fully either. James hit him roughly one more time, Leebin whimpered in pain before James knelt back by him again. Leebin recoiled but James picked his wand back up.

"You don't want to kiss me then fine, you just don't want to admit how much better I kiss then your dead wife. I know that," James spat at him, "But I'm going to make you pay for biting my tongue, you have no idea how much that hurts. I'm going to try something new."

Leebin opened his mouth to speak but it turned into a scream as James cast the spell over the skin on his other collar bone, a Dark Curse to peel off the flesh. He dragged his wand down slowly, ever so slowly causing the layer of flesh to peel down with it while Leebin howled in agony. James jerked his wand violently when he thought it was enough, ripping the section off roughly and causing another screech of pain from Leebin. He wasn't so angry he would smile, relishing ever decibel of pain in Leebin's voice. He went to cast the curse again.

"PLEASE!" Leebin shrieked desperately, begging like the pathetic coward he was and sounding on the verge of tears, "Please. Please don't, please James."

"Did you know there are different layers of skin?" James asked of him smugly, he found it quite fascinating really and felt smart knowing it. Take that teachers who thought he was stupid just because he couldn't be bothered to do their boring work.

"Y-Yeah I did," Leebin admitted shakily and James angrily slammed his fist into Leebin's face again.

"How dare you know that!?" James yelled in fury, "How dare you ruin my cool fact?!"

"I'm sor-"

Leebin's question became another scream of agony as James cast the curse again, drawing his wand over Leebin's body and slicing away a layer of flesh with it. He reached out to the flap of skin in curiosity to how it felt, it was hard to tell as it was slick with blood but he liked the howl of pain it got from Leebin. He gripped it tighter before ripping the skin off with his own hand, smirking in delight at how powerful he felt while Leebin just shrieked in pain because he was pathetic and weak. He didn't know why anyone could _not_ feel good, the rush he got hearing the pain he inflicted in his prisoner's screams was almost euphoric. He knelt by him and cast the spell again.

"I wonder..." James began curiously over Leebin's screams as he slowly - ever so slowly to prolong the pain and squeeze every last possible ounce of agony from Leebin - drew his wand down with intense focus, tearing away the blood soaked flesh, "Just how long... it will take us... to get... to your muscles... and your bones."

"PLEASE!" Leebin screeched as James ripped off that segment of flesh, immediately recasting it.

"Might take... awhile," James continued over Leebin's screams as he started peeling away another strip of flesh on Leebin's chest, "You look good... despite... everything."

"You're delusional," Leebin sobbed, crying out in pain as James tore of the strip and angrily punched his broken collar bone at the insult.

"Don't insult me!" James snarled, dragging his nails through raw red layer of flesh he'd exposed in peeling it away causing another scream from Leebin.

"I'm not!" Leebin cried desperately, "It's true! You see what you- what you want to see, not what's actually there."

"Really?" James sneered as he pressed his wand to the patch of skin again, causing Leebin to shriek again in agony, "Well, why don't you prove it because I think you're the delusional one."

"Hands!" Leebin screamed and James stopped peeling for a second as Leebin tried to raise his hand which was seemingly difficult when his arm was broken, curiosity got the better of him though while Leebin shuddered looking ill, "H- How many fingers am I holding up, James?"

"Three. And your thumb," James added in case it was a trick question, he ripped off the flesh as Leebin was losing his interest and hearing him scream in pain again was more satisfying. He smiled.

"But why three!" Leebin blurted out as James raised his wand again, he paused and scowled at his prisoner feeling even more annoyed this time at the dumb question, "Why three rather than four?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?! I'm not a Legilimens."

"Yes you do know, _look!_ There's three because I can only do three because I only have three fingers on that hand, you cut off my ring finger," Leebin told him breathlessly and James frowned at the hand as he fingered the wedding ring he'd taken from him idly, Leebin was right about the three fingers, "You don't like abnormality so you didn't see one missing, you saw a whole hand and just thought I held up three to explain. You see what you want to see, you think what you want to think not the truth. You're delusional, you need to stop."

"You're just saying these things because you're a coward and you don't want to be hurt," James complained irritably as he grabbed Leebin's arm and twisted it roughly, delighting in the cry of pain as he heard it snap.

"D- Doesn't mean I'm wrong," Leebin whimpered shakily, the pain still evident on his beautiful face, "You _are_ delusional, you need help but there's still hope for you. Go to your dad, make a deal. You haven't done anything too bad, it'd be easy to get immunity for information if you just tell him what you know. Harry will forgive you in a heartbeat."

"Even though I tortured you?" James wondered in disbelief as he cast a charm on one of Leebin's fingers, causing another pained howl as every cell painfully froze with literal ice, freezing it to the core.

"Yes!" Leebin insisted, sounding certain even though he was trembling as James pressed Leebin's hand to the floor, "You're his _son_, Harry loves you. He won't care what you've done to me if you're rejoining him, he won't."

"You know what I love most about this spell?" James asked rhetorically before smashing his fist down on the frozen finger, Leebin screamed as it shattered his frosted finger leaving behind a gory stump. James smirked as he pushed the broken arm roughly back to Leebin, "That. And now you have even less fingers. Look Leebin, I _like_ being a Soul Eater, I _like_ torturing you and I'm going to keep at it until you tell me what you know. If my dad wants to join me and apologize then great but I'm perfectly happy with where I am right now, I'm certainly not going to seek him out and change who I am. He should love me for who I am and I'm a Soul Eater so stop trying to convince me to turn, I really don't care what you have to say anymore unless it's Calderon's location. Do you understand?"

"Y- Yes," Leebin admitted, trying to bring the broken arm protectively to his chest.

"Good," James mused with a smile as he reached out to take another fistful of Leebin's hair, holding him in place as he pressed his lips to his once more although this time the lips tasted like blood but he didn't care. Leebin didn't recoil this time, however he did feel his prisoner's tears rolling down his face.


	19. V: John Avery - A Niece Talk

_**Author's Note:** Thanks so much to TheGreatAthlon5 for reviewing!  
_

**_Questions:_**

**_Moran isn't a werewolf too is she?_**  
_Assuming you mean Myriam, yes she is a werewolf_

* * *

_August 2021 (V: Chapter 1)_

John Avery stood on the other side of the counter to his niece Lenore in the crummy shack they lived in, a pile of crop in front of them. They each held a knife, tediously skinning the crop to be able to sell it to an apothecary. As usual Lenore was the chattier of them and as he'd had to come accustomed to this summer, she was talking about Maurice.

"And because he's deaf," Lenore was saying without missing a beat on their work, sounding quite fascinated, "He can't hear the potion hissing as a sign it's ready like we would, he has to pay attention to the amount of bubbles fizzing and the steam of all things to tell when it's done instead. Too much steam and it's gone too far, not enough and it's not boiled enough. It's really quite interesting, don't you think?"

"Hmm," John murmured, knowing she wasn't really interested in his input at this point.

"In most potions the steam is the secondary indicator, I think it would be hard to use it as the primary source. There's not really an exact measurement of steam after all so it's not the most precise, at the very least you'd think it would be hard to brew it to perfection but Maurice is consistently top of his class for potions so it must be a valid method," Lenore continued, "He offered to show me if I'd like when we're back at Hogwarts, what do you think?"

"You got nothing to lose," John shrugged and he saw her nod.

"True," Lenore admitted before grinning again, "But do you know he went to Beauxbatons before Hogwarts?"

"Yes and he learned Potions from them first hence why he's ahead, he considers it a better system then Hogwarts and feels they leave a lot out. Considering you know Hogwarts leaves out more about potions it fears is too close to if not outright Dark Magic, you agree with him they could do more," John recounted, "You told me that already."

"Oh right," Lenore muttered and they skinned silently for a moment before lighting up again, "Well did you know Maurice says that in Beauxbatons the houses are-"

"Platine, Cuivre, Or and Argent. Maurice was in Platine and they don't have a Sorting Hat in Beauxbatons," John cut her off, again recalling something she'd already told him, "You told me that too."

"Oh right, sorry," Lenore offered apologetically before smiling sheepishly, "Maurice is just really interesting, don't you think?"

"I think that _you_ think he's more interesting than I do," John said carefully and she paused slightly in the peeling to look up at him with a scowl.

"What do you mean by that?" Lenore prompted and it was his turn to hesitate as he tried to think on his words carefully knowing he was on thin ice here.

"You like this boy, don't you?" John prodded and Lenore looked down, returning to peeling.

"I'm just being... nice to him so he'll help me with my Ancient Runes," Lenore insisted with a dismissive shrug, suddenly very focused on the task at hand, "I always get the damn things mixed up."

"You could do that without talking about him every other minute and writing to him every other hour," John pointed as he too returned to peeling, Lenore was quiet for a time before sighing.

"You're right, I _do_ like him," Lenore admitted unhappily, stopping peeling again and looking somewhat irritated with herself as she put her hands on the counter, "Damn. Now I can't talk to him anymore. And I'll have to find someone else to help me with my Ancient Runes."

"Why?" John wondered, pausing in peeling in his confusion while she vigorously returned to it, "Shouldn't that be all the more reason to talk to him? Did someone change the rules on dating while I was in Azkaban?"

"I can't pretend to date him so he'll help me with my Ancient Runes if I like, that's just... wrong. And weird. Weird and wrong," Lenore insisted and he slowly started peeling again.

"Well..." John began and bit his lip for a second, wondering whether he was doing the right thing in encouraging this, "Why don't you just date him for real then?"

Lenore froze in shock for a minute, looking down determinedly as she slowly went back to peeling. He patiently waited as he just kept peeling, knowing not to push her. She'd speak when she was ready.

"Because... If I do that I could get hurt again," Lenore said finally in an uncommonly quiet voice without looking up.

"Or you could be happy," John offered equally quietly, causing her to pause and look at him while he continued focusing on peeling, "You won't know if you don't try, Lenore, this is your last year of Hogwarts and you don't like people often. If you don't feel ready that's okay but you should at least consider it."

"Why?" Lenore prompted and he paused in his peeling, looking up slowly.

"Because... Because I want you to have a better life then I did, I want you to be happy. Good grades for good qualifications for a better paying job are important obviously, money is how you don't waste your life in a shack peeling shit but..." John said and swallowed uncomfortably at explaining his reasoning like this, "Well… money only buys you so much, I don't want you to die alone like I will."

"You're not that old," Lenore scoffed, "You still have time to-"

"No I don't," John cut her off insistently, "I ruined my own life and there's no hope for me but there's hope for you, that's the whole point. You have a life, you have a future and you have a chance..."

"So do you," Lenore muttered but he ignored it, this has nothing to do with him.

"Just think about it, okay?" John sighed, "If not Maurice then just in general. At some point. You deserve to be happy."

"Okay, I'll... I'll think about it," Lenore agreed and they went back to peeling in thoughtful silence.


	20. VII: Olivia Nott - Nott Here Anymore

_July 2023, (VII: Chapter 1)_

Olivia Nott knelt by the toilet bowl, throwing up unceremoniously into it until there was nothing left. She knelt there breathing heavily, clutching at her stomach as she felt it painfully twisting inside her as if wringing itself to try find something else to expel. As it seemed to realize there was nothing, it seemed to smooth out and the pain eased although she still felt incredibly nauseous. She knew it wasn't good, it might be stress or a very bad sign but she didn't care about that right now. That was another day's problem, right now she just had to focus on getting through her boyfriend's funeral.

She squeezed her eyes shut resisting the urge to cry again, she still struggled to think that she'd never see him again. _How_ he'd died continued to get to her, it wasn't like he'd gotten mixed up in some war thing or the Shadows attacked. No, he'd just been going home. _Home_. The year was over, they were safe heading home for the summer. They should have been safe, _he_ should have been safe. The unfairness of it all just tore her up inside. Olivia wiped her eyes as she stood, flushing the bile away and going to wash up. She smoothed down her dress before leaving the bathroom, trying to psyche herself up for the funeral and shove down the feelings of malaise.

"You still feeling ill?" her brother asked and she jumped, noticing Maxie standing there leaning against the wall with his arms folded with a grim expression. That was his regular expression though, seldom did he so much as crack a smile these days.

"Yeah but I'll be okay," Olivia insisted, rather wishing he didn't want to be a Healer so didn't pay so much attention to his siblings, "Come on, I don't want to be late."

Maxie said nothing but went back downstairs with her regardless where her father and younger brother Aloysius were, her father wasn't going to the funeral but Aloysius had wanted to come so was dressed all in black like she and Maxie. She'd made sure her brothers had met Vern, Aloysius had been quite fond of him. Why wouldn't he be? Vern was nice to people, that's just who he was. Her eldest brother Kyle who had his own place now wasn't going but he had still respected Vern too, it was high praise from Kyle who thought himself above ninety percent of the world. He was good to her though, their father had taken their mother's death hard and Kyle had had to step up to help look after them.

"Are you _sure _you have to go to the funeral?" her father pressed, his expression rather unreadable as usual. She could see where Maxie got it from even if he didn't look much like their father now he'd grown his hair out, "I know it feels bad to _you_ but I mean he was _just _your boyfriend, teenage romances come and go all the time it's not like losing your spouse of years. In twenty years when you have a husband and family this will feel like nothing."

"I was with Vern for _years_. I tell him everything, he's like one of my closest friends," Olivia insisted and her voice cracked, eyes threatening to spill again, "Or he _was_…"

"What's your problem with funerals?" Maxie demanded defensively while their father sighed heavily.

"I just don't think it's worth the risk to your lives," their father admitted quietly, "Harry Potter couldn't protect his own family, what's to stop his son coming back and attacking at the funeral?"

"Who comes back and attacks at a funeral?"

"Maybe the same person who goes back home and murders his cousin," their father countered irritably and Olivia squeezed her eyes shut at the painful mental image of Vern dying like that, her father must've realized he word choice was a little blunt as she felt him put his arm around her, "If Vern really cared about you, he wouldn't want you to die for him. We can do a memorial here, how is that sweetheart?"

"I want to go to Vern's funeral," Olivia reiterated opening her eyes to see her father's concerned face.

"If anything happens, I'll apparate us right home," Maxie added to put his fears to rest, he didn't look convinced but sighed with a nod of agreement anyway. Olivia wiped the tears from her eyes at the thought of how Vern would never learn to apparate, he'd been apprehensive but also excited to learn it this year.

"You better," he breathed before hugging them goodbye.

They left the house, a decent house but not a mansion the way some had. Her grandfather had been a Death Eater and a lot of the family's wealth had been taken as reparations for his crimes even though her father hadn't done anything, he'd had to work hard to get them to where they were and to be seen as respectable family again. It meant a lot to him.

Maxie offered out a hand for each of them to take, Olivia braced herself as she and Aloysius both did. Normally she was alright with apparation, having grown up to it she was usually okay with the compressing sensation but this time it only made her nausea worse. She felt her stomach twist again when they reached solid ground, if she'd had anything left in her stomach she was sure she'd have lost it. She was glad she was holding Maxie's hand because she thought her shaky legs might've given out otherwise, she took a deep breath as the world steadied itself.

"Are you sure you're-"

"I'm fine, Maximus!" Olivia insisted before Maxie could complete his thought, her brother scowled, "Let's just come on."

They left the alley they'd apparated into, walking through the slivers of sunlight to the muggle cemetery where the funeral was it was at due to Vern having muggle family needing to attend. There were Aurors at the entrance, checking them before they went in. She thought her father would be pleased with the security, she thought Vern would find it sad his funeral needed such protection.

She looked around for people she recognized and was immediately drawn to the sound of sobbing, spotting Albus Potter seated near the front crying uncontrollably with Abby Longbottom trying to console him. Lily Potter had her arm in a sling and with her free hand was holding Orous Knox's, the albino was just gazing at the coffin brokenly which was the same look his twin bore. Apparently losing a friend could shake even the usually calm collected Maurice Rivers, the stepfather guy was with him… Cade Knox she thought his name was.

She saw others of Vern's friends too, Scorpius Malfoy and Michael Sanford even the already graduated Latimer, people he knew from the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and of course a large section of red hair that were the Weasleys. There were some staff there anyway, the friendly giant Hagrid was sitting sniffing at the back, Longbottom with his younger children and wife who ran the Leaky Cauldron, Ashain was there too with his even younger children.

"Would you like to meet your baby half-brother?" a red haired woman she thought must be his stepmother Dominique was saying to the professor, holding an infant with the same extremely dark auburn hair those Ashains seemed to have.

"No," Ashain scoffed and took his children's hands, leading them away to their seats even as they tried to look at the baby. Olivia averted her eyes.

"Thanks for coming," a voice offered and she looked back up to see Harry Potter himself was greeting them, the famous hero did have the scar still and his emerald eyes were strikingly like Vern making her own eyes water. He was looking rather down himself, stress and sorrow lining his face as slivers of gray decorated his hair.

"We're sorry for your loss, Mr Potter," Aloysius told him formally.

"Don't be sorry for _him_, it's _his_ fault my brother died," an unfamiliar voice snapped and she turned to see who had to be Vern's immediate muggle family. An elderly lady with a lot of neck likely his grandmother then his older siblings, a plump blond girl she knew was called Daisy who looked bored and the speaker the tall thin blond brother who Vern had actually reconciled with.

"Malcolm, I'm so sorry," Mr Potter said with a tone of utmost sincerity but Malcolm still looked pissed.

"I don't care if you're sorry, you were supposed to protect him and you failed," Malcolm spat angrily, his expression murderous but his tone deathly quiet, "You got my brother killed and you _know_ it, your own _son_ killed him. If he'd come to live with me like I wanted he'd still be alive, he deserved better then to die in the home he was supposed to be safe in and you fucking know it."

Mr Potter just hung his head as the Dursley kids moved by him, the grandmother stopped to talk him but they didn't wait around to hear the conversation. Instead they went further inside, following Malcolm and Daisy as they approached the coffin. Daisy took out a muggle handheld flat screen thing, starting to tap away at it capturing Aloysius' interest.

"What's that?" Aloysius asked curiously.

"It's a phone, duh," Daisy stated as if it were obvious.

"What's a pho-"

"Daisy!" Malcolm hissed angrily, throwing her a glare.

"What? It's not like anything's like started yet," Daisy complained before rolling her eyes under her brother's eyes and pocketing the phone, "Oh my god you're like such a dictator, Vern wouldn't mind. I'm going to sit down."

"I'll get us seats too," Aloysius decided helpfully.

"Don't get any at the front, they're for Vern' family," Maxie offered and the younger boy nodded as he went off.

"How did you know my brother?" Malcolm inquired, having to halt a few feet from the coffin as Maurice was saying his farewells.

"I was his girlfriend," Olivia answered and gestured to Maxie, "And this and the other one are my brothers."

"You must be Olivia then," Malcolm said, offering her his hand which she shook, "Vern spoke of you often and highly."

"It's nice to finally meet you," Olivia agreed as Maurice moved away from the coffin, she swallowed, "I'm just sorry it had to be in these circumstances."

"Yes," Malcolm nodded solemnly, moving his hand away and going over to the coffin to say his goodbyes himself.

Olivia waited, just swaying on her feet in wait making her feel more nauseous or maybe she was just nervous. A part of her just wanted to go sit down, she didn't really want to Vern like this but some other part compelled her to stay. She needed to see, she needed to see with her own eyes. Malcolm moved away to go sit with his sister and Olivia bit her lip, feeling anxious as she finally approached the coffin with every fiber of her being hoping against some impossible hope this was all some twisted prank or some terrible mistake. Anything but for Vern to really be lying dead in that coffin.

But he was, she choked on a sob when she saw him. Emerald eyes closed, stringy brown hair spread out on the pillow. She'd heard a lot of people say the dead just looked like they were sleeping but she disagreed, there was such an unhealthily lifeless stillness to Vern that there was no way he slept. His body was empty, the wonderful person he'd been was gone and it was her heart not her stomach twisting up in agony at that thought. She put one hand to her face to try stop the tears, the other hand subconsciously to her stomach.

"I'm sorry," Maxie whispered and she felt his hand on her shoulder, she turned to him and hugged him tight as she cried into his chest.

"I _loved_ him," Olivia breathed, choking on the words as he held her close to comfort her.

"I know," Maxie offered gently and she pulled apart, trying to wipe at her eyes through the tears. The funeral hadn't started yet, she needed to keep it together, "Come on let's go it down."

She nodded mutely, allowing herself to be taken to seats Aloysius had saved for them. The ceremony started not too long after that, or at least she didn't think so. It could've been years or seconds, she wasn't paying attention to the time. It was in a muggle location for the Dursleys sake but it was still a magical official performing the service, she thought he'd like the mixture of cultures. That was good… right? She didn't notice when she'd started crying but she knew the tears were streaming by the time people were giving eulogies. She didn't want Vern to be dead, why did he have to be dead?

Albus approached the pedestal shakily, he was one person who had actually been crying harder then she had. His face was tearstained, his eyes unmistakably red and blotchy even at a reasonable distance. He looked very much like he was trying not to cry again as he tried to smooth out the piece of parchment he had, more tears bubbling from his eyes.

"V- Vern c- c- came to us when he was jus- just eleven after his parents died," Albus croaked out weakly his voice cracking as he tried not to cry, the paper trembling in his hand as he wiped his eyes, "Be-Before H- Hogwarts I'd only seen him a c- couple of times, it was d- decided th- that he sh- should sh- share a room with me. I wasn't pleased at the time, none of us really wanted him there even th- though D- Dad told us to be nice to him. Boy, do I feel like a dick about it now.

"B- Because Vern was… he was…" Albus tried to say, choking on another sob as his shoulders shook and trying to compose himself to continue, "H- He pr- proved himself t- to not only be a p- part of th- the fam- family but a r- r- real fr- friend… H- He… I… He…"

"Let me help!" a small voice announced.

"Cassia!" Ashain cried, trying to swipe his daughter but the small girl ran up to the front and Albus handed her the parchment as he continued failing at not crying. Cassia stepped up without hesitation, clearing her throat.

"Vern was sorted into Hufflepuff, sometimes it's viewed as a poor house but it's not," Cassia read from the parchment surprisingly her voice coming out crisp and confident, carrying to everyone there. Clearly public speaking came naturally to her, she even managed to not keep her eyes glued to Albus' parchment, "Vern had a kind heart, and from the very first night he was the only one to reach out to the one person at the Hufflepuff table who needed a friend the most and he never wavered. Not from him, not from us even though we weren't always the nicest to him because that's how loyal he was and I- well Albus wishes he had appreciated it more at the time.

"Vern wasn't overly keen to be a wizard, he wasn't overly happy with his parents being dead but he never bitched and moaned about it like others would've. He just continued being the great person he was, trying his hardest to do the best he could and help the people he cared about the best he could. He always put everyone first and not a lot of people can do that but he did, he always did. There is a war going on that like all of us he was kind of thrust into but he fought, he always fought to do the right thing," Cassia continued before clearing her throat with a brief scowl at the page, "And I'd like to add my own bit here because Albus' handwriting is all smudged and I can't read it.

"When I was younger Shadows tried to kidnap me, well they succeeded but the important thing that I remember about that and my point is that Vern tried to save me, he tried to save all of us. He was brave and he stood up for us, he nearly but he still stood up and was willing to fight until he died to save us because he was heroic like that. Vern was a hero. He was a great kid and if he'd have lived, he would've been a great man. It's not fair he didn't get to live the rest of the life he had but while short, he still lived a damn great life. I'm lucky that I got to know him and am honored to call him my friend, you people should be too. Goodbye Vern, we'll miss you. This is for you."

Cassia concluded her speech looking a little teary eyed herself before cawing and for a second Olivia – and everyone - was utterly bewildered before she heard birdsong, calling and chirping in an actual sad melody that made her cry for Vern all over again. It came to a halt as Cassia cawed again, raising her hand and birds soared from every tree in sight. Filling the sky and flying off into the horizon all at once, like some kind of bizarre feathered moving rainbow.

"Th- Thank you for that C- Cassia, that was beautiful," Albus offered, patting the girl on the back to urge her to return to her seat which she did and Albus cleared his throat trying to blink more tears but his voice broke the more spoke, "I jus- just wanted to s- say one more thing. Wh- When I f- first met Vern, he was jus- just my second cousin b- b- but when… when he died i- in my arms, he w- was my brother. He was m- more of a brother t- to me then J- James ev- ever was and I'm s- so sorry I didn't ap- appreciate th- that more when he was al- alive, I c- can't th- thank him enough and I'm g- going to m- miss him a wh- whole lot. I- I love you br- brother, b- bye V- Vern…"


	21. III: Wyatt Grant - An Argument to Regret

_August 2019, (III: Chapter 1)_

Wyatt Grant stirred sleepily, feeling his dead droop as the thing he'd been resting on moved. He blinked blearily, trying to squint in the gloom to make out the shape of his dark-haired boyfriend getting dressed. Wyatt raised his head slightly, slipping his eyes to the window at the darkness outside then to the clock face on the bedside table that he could only make out because of moonlight. It was four o'clock in the morning, Wyatt groaned and let his head drop back down onto the pillow.

"Rudy," Wyatt hissed, not sure why he was whispering when it was just them but it seemed too early to be too loud, "What are you doing?"

"Getting dressed," Rudy whispered back, Wyatt rolled his eyes.

"I noticed that much, I meant _why_ are you getting dressed. The sun isn't even up yet, unless you turned into a vampire since we went to bed there's no reason to be getting up now."

"I told you I had to be in work early today," Rudy pointed out before pausing briefly in tying his belt to scowl at him, "Why are we whispering?!"

"The real question is why are you going to work so early?" Wyatt countered somewhat irritably, Rudy practically lived at the Ministry these days without going in before the crack of dawn. Literally, he was working six or even seven day weeks, often not coming back until late and the shadows beneath his eyes were testament to the toll it was taking. Rudy didn't seem to be paying attention as he started pulling on his boots, "Did you not notice how the sun isn't even up yet?"

"I noticed, Wy, I have to go in this early"

"What is the point in going into so early no one's even awake yet?"

"There's a _war_ going on now, I'm doing the work of two other people because they died as well as my own," Rudy told him sitting down on the bed beside him and starting to tie up his bootlaces.

"Just blow it off, you shouldn't be expected to do the work of three people," Wyatt complained, sitting up and hugging Rudy from behind. He kissed his cheek which was all bristly, Rudy needed a shave, "Come on, just come back to bed and relax for once."

"I can't do that, they need me," Rudy insisted, prying his arms off him, Wyatt fell back onto the bed and Rudy continued tying his shoelaces, "I want to get in early to talk to my boss about something anyway before everyone else shows up."

"And it can't wait until tomorrow? I'm sure they can survive without you for a day or a few more hours, it's not like your job is important anyway," Wyatt sighed and immediately saw the error in his words as Rudy stopped to look back at him incredulously, Wyatt held up his hands, "I mean of _course_ your job is important… it's just… not like… the Ministry will collapse if you don't go in for work for a day. You know what I mean."

"Nice save," Rudy quipped and went back to tying his shoelaces, Wyatt let his hand drop back onto the bed pouting unhappily.

"You still going to work?"

"Yep," Rudy confirmed as he got up, leaning back down to give him a kiss goodbye and Wyatt took his hands as he made to pull away.

"Please stay," Wyatt pleaded and Rudy did look slightly guilty, "You really do need a break… and I really miss you."

"Look, I'll try get home early- well not early but on time, okay? We can go for a meal or something," Rudy sighed as he kissed him one last time before pulling away, this time Wyatt let him go not feeling slightly better. The number of times Rudy had said something like that and the number of times he'd actually done it were very different, "And try get the place cleaned up a bit, that way I don't have to do it when I go in and we can just go."

"Sure," Wyatt agreed disinterestedly, "Good," Rudy smiled and kissed him a last time, "I love you."

"Love you too," Wyatt said suppressing a yawn as Rudy headed over to the door, "Bye."

Wyatt rolled back over and had to pull the covers back over himself, the bed seeming empty and cold without Rudy but be succeeded in falling back into an uneasy sleep regardless. He didn't wake up again until well after midday, dragging himself out of bed finally to eat some cereal. Unlike Rudy, he didn't have a job or a career or any reason to get up early. He treated himself to a nice long bath listening to some of his favorite records and nibbling on gummy worms, he knew he'd said he'd clean up but that could wait for later. Or never, it's not like Rudy would actually hold up his end of the deal and would probably not be back until so late it didn't matter.

After that he returned to his room, not to sleep he just found it more comfortable for his animagi training since the blinds blocked out the light better than in the front room. He didn't really want to be in the dark but with the glare of the sun in his eyes, it was kind of distracting. He was close, he was so close to finally becoming an animagus and he didn't want anything to screw it up. He cast the few spells necessary to retain his sanity and focused as he closed his eyes, willing his body to change. He always lost track of time when he did this, it could've minutes or hours but at some point it was different. It happened, he felt his body compress painfully.

He found himself laying on the bed now, the bed suddenly seeming massive as he'd shrunk. He took a tentative step forward, looking down at scaly awkward looking hands with claws, he thought he was some kind of lizard. He didn't have time to dwell on it though as he snapped back to a human, the feeling equally painful but he didn't even care. He was ecstatic, that was it, that had been a proper transformation! He'd done it, he was an animagus! He'd succeed at something! He was grinning from ear to ear, he couldn't stop smiling he was so happy. He couldn't wait to tell Rudy. Although he had been hoping he'd be a bird like Rudy so they could fly together but regardless, he was excited to have done it and had suspected he'd be something reptilian at least from the scales he'd been getting frequently during his training for it.

He quickly levitated the mirror in front of him and kept at it, focusing and transforming through the pain several times to get the hang of it. Wyatt also did confirm he was a lizard, he was some freaking awesome green and yellow lizard with all this cool pattern. It was so weird being a lizard, walking was quite different then as a human and the apartment suddenly seemed like a giant playground to explore now he was so much smaller. He also noticed these weird flaps like wings between his limbs and body, which he discovered actually _were_ wings when he tried to get down of the bed. He could fly! He could _fly_! Well it was more like gliding but semantics, it was amazing.

Wyatt was having such a great time but forced himself to stop, he was getting hungry. He made himself some soup before actually getting dressed to go research lizards in the library, he wanted to find out everything possible about what he was. He devoured as much information on what he was as he could in the time he had, they were actually called 'flying dragons' or Draco something or other – depending on the specific species – as their scientific Latin name, they didn't have a lot of information on the individual species so he wasn't sure which exactly but he intended to find out. Unfortunately, it was later in the afternoon by now so he didn't have too long before the Library closed but he supposed he could just come back tomorrow. It was a start. He returned home still in a good mood to find his day just kept on getting better as Rudy _was_ actually home, Wyatt grinned.

"You came home on time!" Wyatt burst out, rushing over to Rudy who was washing up his dishes. He wasn't sure whether to hug him or bounce up and down on his feet childishly but he couldn't help it, he was still so excited about succeeding, "You'll never believe what happened-"

"You didn't bother to clean up like you said you would?" Rudy cut him off bitterly.

"Well I didn't think you'd actually come home on time," Wyatt brushed him of distractedly, "So anyway, today-"

"So what? You thought you'd leave me even more work to do when I came home?!" Rudy cut him off looking somewhere between enraged and upset, "Is it really so much to ask that you do _something_?! I work all day then I have to come home and do all the housework and all the cooking since you only ever do cereal and soup for yourself, you don't do _anything_-"

"Hey, I don't do _nothing_," Wyatt tried to profess defensively, still wanting to share his news even if Rudy was just determined to ruin his mood, "I'm trying to became an animagus and I-"

"So _what_?!" Rudy burst out, abandoning the dishes to throw his hands up in exasperation as he rounded on him, "They don't pay you for being an animagus and you haven't even succeeded at that yet, you probably never will!"

"You- You don't think I can do it?" Wyatt wondered, feeling quite hurt his boyfriend didn't believe him. Especially as Rudy had been the one to mentor him in it, yet he'd never expected him to succeed?

"No, I don't!" Rudy snapped, "You're so lazy, Wyatt, and you never take anything seriously, if you don't do that you can't even try properly! You'll never amount to anything, never do anything worthwhile in your life like that! You're just wasting your time at home doing nothing, if you won't get a job because the career you had your heart set on was the same one as the father you fell out with then the least you could do is clean up after yourself instead of leaving it to me!"

"Well it's not like you're ever around to see it's not clean!"

"Forgive me for having to work a job to pay for our apartment, our food, our clothes and pretty much all of our stuff! You think gummy worms grow on fucking trees?! It's called being an adult, most of us would _work_ to _pay_ for our own way not show up on their boyfriend's doorstop asking to stay a few days because you ran away from your dad!"

"So what, all you care about is money?!"

"Yes, all I care about is money! That's why I broke my neck trying to get home on time to spend time on you instead of getting paid for overtime, that's why I let you stay even when a few days became a few years even when you contribute nothing financially- you know one time your dad actually offered me _money_ to leave you so you could turn straight or something but I refused because money is clearly all I care about!" Rudy reeled off in a tone of heavy sarcasm but his voice was cracking as he tried not to cry, "How can you even say that?"

"Well you know what, if your life is so much better off without me then why don't I just go?!" Wyatt complained, feeling his anger start to be replaced by guilt but he didn't want to deal with that.

"Wyatt-" Rudy called after him but Wyatt had already made a beeline for the door, disapparating as soon as he was out of the protective bounds.

He returned to outside the Library, it was still closed – not that he felt like going in anyway – but it was just the first place he thought of since he'd been there earlier. He shoved his hands in his pockets and just started to walk through the streets, his previous excitement about becoming an animagus all but extinguished. He didn't care if he never told Rudy now, well he'd have to because he'd need to register it within a few days or it was illegal and he wasn't sure what to do but still.

He started to regret leaving as the guilt started to kick in even more, he should know better than to storm off in the middle of an argument. Especially since he felt like it was an argument he'd been losing, maybe he should be making more of an effort. Even if he didn't know what he planned to do with his life, the one thing he did plan to do was stay with Rudy. He didn't want to lose him, he really needed to go home and apologize.

Wyatt trudged back home, taking the long scenic route to clear his head before he was back at their apartment building. He headed upstairs and went to back inside, he was surprised to find the door locked since it obviously hadn't been since he'd left through it. He unlocked it quickly with his wand and opened the door, feeling a surge of cold rush through his veins as even while he was opening the door he heard Rudy screaming.

"I DIDN'T TELL ANYONE ELSE!" Rudy shrieked in agony as Wyatt walked through the door, he was sobbing, "I _SWEAR_!"

Wyatt was greeted by the sight of his boyfriend on the floor convulsing like he was being tortured, there were two cloaked men with the Shadow insignia he'd seen in the papers on their robes who turned to him as they heard the door. A man he thought he recognized vaguely as Rudy's boss – he'd never really met him, just had him pointed out across a room the odd time he'd seem Rudy at work – stood over him with his wand on Rudy although he was lowering it at Rudy's statement. Wyatt felt sick seeing Rudy suffering, it made him feel even worse for leaving.

"Run, Wyatt!" Rudy yelled the second he saw him but Wyatt couldn't, he couldn't just leave him.

He went to withdraw his wand but the other two Shadows – they had to be from their insignia - were faster, he had to stop to throw himself out of the way of a jet of green light from the first while the second hit the door which closed it and presumably resealed it. Wyatt's heart was thundering in his chest, had- had that man seriously just tried to _kill_ him?!

"He's just the roommate, kill him," Rudy's boss said casually.

He heard Rudy scream 'no' while the Shadows both fired jets of green at him, he wouldn't be able to avoid both. Without thinking, Wyatt transformed into a lizard as he threw himself out of the way as best he could. Both spells missed him and he landed on a side table hidden behind an ugly vase his sister had gotten them while on vacation, the group looked baffled as they mustn't have realized what had happened just that he'd gotten away somehow.

Rudy was on his knees now, a look of absolute relief on his face presumably at the thought of Wyatt getting away. To Wyatt's horror though, Rudy's boss casually slashed his wand at Rudy's neck without batting an eyelid. Rudy's eyes widened in shock and Wyatt tried to scream, only a hissing lizard sound came out though as his boyfriend toppled over with a tide of crimson flooding from his neck. He went still, his eyes vacantly staring at the carpet. Rudy was dead. He couldn't believe Rudy was dead, not Rudy. What was even happening?! Why Rudy?

"Filthy mudblood, too smart for his own good," Rudy's boss spat over Rudy's body while Wyatt felt conflicting feelings of rage against the killers and anguish over Rudy, "The roommate's a witness though, I don't know what he did but search for him. Wyatt Grant I believe his name is, if he's not here he'll undoubtedly show up at the house of a friend or family member. I'll have Specters set on them, kill him and the family member when he shows up."

"Yes, master," the other two said and started looking around, the boss picked at his nails in boredom.

Anger was definitely winning now, how dare they?! They'd just taken a life, they'd just taken Rudy's life and they didn't even _care_. It was nothing to them, taking a person's life was _nothing_ to them. Those people were monsters, he didn't think he'd hated anyone so much in his whole life. He wanted to turn back into a human, he wanted to kill them like they'd murdered his boyfriend.

But he didn't, he forced himself not to. From what he'd seen so far he just didn't think he could take them, he couldn't get revenge if he was dead. His eyes were blurring from tears making victory even less likely as he felt his heart wrenching, Rudy was really dead. So he did what Rudy had wanted, he glided over to the open window while their backs were turned and fled. It felt wrong to flee, to just leave him there but he did. He'd go – although where he had no idea considering what the man had said - but he wouldn't forget, he couldn't forget.


	22. F: Atticus Ashain - To the Skye

_**Thanks to:** Colin Creevey, TheGreatAthlon5 and Cal for reviewing!_

**_Questions:_**

_**What was Rudy not supposed to say?** _  
_He worked in like the personnel part of Ministry and had started to notice a pattern in Aurors who always worked on Shadow crime scenes finding first, especially crime scenes where they had no evidence compared to rare occasions they weren't first on the scene and found evidence and suspected (rightly) these were Shadows clearing up evidence with Cel as their ringleader. He confided in his boss, who was a Shadow so was killed for it_

**_Does the Ministry still not know one of their own did this?_**  
_Nope, Shadow Aurors covered for him_

* * *

_Early November 2008, (Flashback)_

Atticus Ashain trudged unhappily through the muggle streets, he couldn't believe they were actually giving him an award. He certainly didn't feel deserving of one. Sure, his 'actions' had saved the lives of the Aurors and stopped a cell of former Death Eaters in one fell swoop but when said 'actions' had been inadvertently murdering the cell of former Death Eaters… well it didn't seem praiseworthy, killing shouldn't be celebrated.

So what they were Death Eaters? They were still people, maybe they had had brothers or fathers – or other family members at all - who had loved them. Death Eaters had clearly made some bad choices to become Death Eaters but that didn't mean they were inherently bad people, he'd learned that lesson the hard way. He sighed heavily, stopping to lean on a railing overlooking a river. Even after all this time, he still missed his brother. What he wouldn't give for Brutus to still be alive.

Maybe – okay probably definitely – killing his Death Eater brother inadvertently had colored his view on the whole thing, it didn't make him feel any better about it though. He didn't want to be rewarded for killing. He gazed down at the river, seeing his reflection standing alone staring back at him. Of course he was alone, he was always alone. He wondered how deep the river was, if it was deep enough to drown him. He was so tired of it all, his job was his life and he didn't even enjoy that anymore. He had nothing to live for, nothing at all.

Atticus swallowed, stepping back from the river and trying to shake those thoughts from his mind. He had try not to think about that. Some days it was just harder than others. He forced himself to continue walking, looking around to try distract himself from his unhappiness. It wasn't really a nice day, the wind was cold and there was ice everywhere. He moved out of the park to the streets, walking aimlessly not really having a clue where he was going but he didn't trust himself to go home right now to the empty silence of his home.

It was still cold on the streets but seeing the different muggle things was a bit more distracting, like those random color changing boxes or those metal boxes on wheels. He thought they were called 'automobiles.' His eyes shifted to the shop windows, some selling things he recognized like books even if he titles alien and the lifelessly still images disturbing but other things were strange like the shop selling parchment but also a bunch of weird sticks and devices instead of quills. Where was the ink? Were they supposed to get that in a different store? He saw paints, just not ink. There were shops of muggles clothes, some cafes, shops of weird muggle toys and then the strangest thing of all.

Atticus approached it in amazement, one was selling 'electronics' whatever the hell they were but there was a bunch of metal boxes in the window. Metal boxes with pictures on them, _moving_ pictures like their photographs except it was also illuminating. It was getting dark but he could still see the images because they were lit up, he'd guess by the metal boxes. They were all showing the same thing and also producing sound, voices like photographs but also music in the background and it kept chopping to different images with different people, words would also come up like 'The Dark Knight, in cinemas now' or 'McDonalds, I'm loving it.' It was the strangest thing.

"Record it for me then!" a voice was saying desperately nearby and he turned to see a rather beautiful woman approaching, she was bundled up against the cold but he saw strands of golden hair peeking out from beneath her hat and her vibrant sea green eyes were clear as day. She didn't seem to be talking to him, she was alone so he wasn't sure who she actually was talking to, "I'm not going to make it back in time on foot, it'll be on any second. Bloody car, of all the times to break down… No, I'm going to watch it in this shop window… Okay thanks, I'll see you soon."

On that note, she moved her hand away from her ear and he realized she'd been holding a small metal box to it. What was with muggles and metal boxes? He didn't know. The woman pressed the metal box before putting it in her coat, she then checked her wristwatch and went to glance at him. Atticus hastily looked away, staring pointedly at the metal boxes inside the window and trying to pretend he hadn't been looking at her.

"Hi," she offered and he looked back to her.

"Hi," Atticus said back to her, not sure why he was so surprised she had greeted him in English. He didn't have much experience with muggles.

"This may sound weird but, they haven't played a-" she started to ask before being distracted by the metal boxes in the window, her face lit up excitedly and she pointed to the images, "Never mind, its starting!"

Atticus turned to look at them, seeing yet a different bunch of images to the ones he'd seen before. He'd figured out they all seemed to be of different things though, this was one in particular was something to do with women… some kind of feminine hygiene product. It then ended and went back to the one with all the explosions he'd seen before.

"What did you think?" the woman asked of him excitedly.

"Of the… feminine hygiene product?" Atticus wondered in confusion, did she not realize he was a guy? Did muggle woman usually have beards? "Well I can't say I've used one… I'm a man."

"I can see that, sorry," the woman apologized, her face going a little red, "I meant the commercial itself, not the product advertised. But if you know what the product was, that's good. Least it was clear."

"I- I liked it," Atticus offered, wanting her to feel better and her face lit up again.

"Really?" she wondered excitedly, smiling. She had a beautiful smile, "Did you like how the use of yellow was reserved for after the product was introduced? Yellow's associated with joy and is the box color so it makes the product associate with erm… Sorry."

"Why sorry?" Atticus wondered as she trailed off, blushing again.

"You probably don't care about that technical babble, lot more goes into those commercials then you think," she told him, "Sorry, this is my first commercial, I'm just excited."

"Your first commercial?"

"I work at an advertising agency," she explained like that would mean something to him, he didn't really know much about the advertising world let alone the muggle version but he thought she meant she'd made the moving picture thing – called a commercial? – she'd pointed out, "This was my first client, mostly because my boss is kind of sexist but hey progress is progress and the client was happy with us."

"Well I think it's really impressive, I've never met anyone who made a commercial before," Atticus told her truthfully and she smiled sheepishly, he was surprised. He wasn't usually good at making women smile, "So how does it work? How do you make one of those things?"

"Well it's kind of complicated…" she admitted before shivering a bit from the cold, her eyes drifted to one of the cafes nearby, "But if you really want to know I could tell you… over coffee?"

"I'd like that," Atticus agreed, returning the smile, "I'm Atticus by the way."

"Atticus?" she repeated and he nodded, "Nice name, I've never met an Atticus."

"Thanks," Atticus muttered, not sure whether to feel flattered she liked his name or feel panicked that it might be too wizardy if she hadn't heard it before. Whoever she was, "And you…?"

"Skye. My name is Skye."

"I've never met a Skye either," Atticus admitted, feeling less self-conscious about his own name and relaxing in relief, "It's a pretty name."


	23. F: Hilda Varanian - Birth of a Boy

_**Thanks to:** Colin Creevey and TheGreatAthlon5 for reviewing!_

_**Author's Note:** Sorry for the lack of main series Gray lately, having trouble with this most recent chapter. It's a weird occasion where I actually have it mostly written but I am so unhappy it with most of it that I want to start again from scratch, I dislike it that much. In the meantime, Extras are much easier to write and break up my frustration. This chapter in particular is kind of a precursor to a three part Extra I'm doing called 'Bad Blood' focusing on Varanian's unknown family history, it'll be broken up by two more_

* * *

_July 13th 1972, (Flashback)_

Hilda Euphemia Harlow Varanian gritted her teeth against the pain, it was the worst pain she'd ever experienced although she did have yet to feel the wrath of the Cruciatus Curse. No, this wasn't a magical pain but a natural one. Childbirth. On one hand, she felt like she very much deserved to suffer for being foolish enough to get herself into this situation but on the other it wasn't like she hadn't tried to correct it but bloody abortion laws had prohibited it. She'd been a day over, one _single_ day. Fuck Healers.

She was alone in the delivery room except for the Healers doing said delivery, she hadn't wanted to mess up her bed at home and she hadn't wanted anyone to be in here with her. Why would _any_ self-respecting woman want _anyone_ to see them like _this_? Her family would only be cheering her on anyway or offering her encouragement like it was some kind of bloody race, which it wasn't. She viewed it as some kind of grueling character building exercise to have to endure the pain, that or a warning lest she ever consider dating again. But she wouldn't, she knew she wouldn't. Hilda was not the kind of person who made the same mistake twice, people made mistakes but only idiots repeated them.

She dug her nails into the bedsheets, refusing to make a sound as the most intense wave of pain yet drove through her and she gave in to the urge to push. She was sure the Healers had been saying something to that effect but she wasn't really listening, she didn't want the child anyway and if anything went wrong she'd made it abundantly clear to the Healers beforehand that saving her trumped the child no question. She was sure that made her sound heartless, in her defense she was carrying the spawn of darkness. There was a reason this baby had no father. She'd killed him. Because he was a Death Eater, all Death Eaters were evil… no matter the lies they said.

_"I love you," his voice came to her mind and she saw his desperate stupidly handsome face, dark hair all scruffy as usual and oddly mismatched eyes. One blue, one gray but both watering as he stood holding out his hands as if that made him somehow innocent. The only thing more striking about his appearance was the Dark Mark burned into his flesh, "I swear, Hilda, I just want to do right by you and our child. I don't want to be a Death Eater anymore. I _swear_."_

"Fuck you, Cain," Hilda whispered in the present.

She had to speak through her gritted teeth and hopefully not loud enough for the Healers to hear, blinking through the tears and digging her fingers in so hard it tore the sheets as an even worse pain ripped her apart as she pushed. Seemingly pushing out the pain as her body was flooded by relief after, followed by the sound of a baby crying. Her baby.

Hilda collapsed back against the pillows, breathing heavily while her baby screamed bloody murder. She stared up at the white ceiling, not wanting to look at the child, not wanting to be reminded. She was sure you were supposed to feel some rush of joy, some happiness at the birth of your child. But she didn't. She didn't know how she felt. Sad? Empty? Glad it was over? She was glad for that, now she just had the mandatory two weeks of maternity leave to recover from the birth then she could go back to work as an Auror. She was a good Auror, she hadn't lost a duel in her life.

"It's a boy!" one of the Healers announced happily.

"What do you want a medal?" Hilda scoffed, "Any idiot with eyes can spot a penis."

"Would you like to hold him?"

"Why the fuck would I want to do that?"

"B- Because it's _your_ baby?" the Healer said in a tone of complete bewilderment that almost made Hilda laugh.

"My parents are adopting it," Hilda explained as she risked a glance at the Healer, thankfully her son was too bundled up in blankets that she didn't have to look at it, "They're waiting outside and the paperwork to terminate my parental rights should be with… one of the other Healers, I forget the name. You can let them in, they'll probably like to hold him."

"You don't want to hold him? Just once?" the Healer wondered, still sounding utterly flabbergasted. It was hilarious. Or maybe Hilda was just tired.

"No, I do not. Were you not listening?" Hilda complained instead and the woman gave her a cold look before she hurried with the crying child. Hilda lay back, relaxing once more while the remaining Healers cast a few more spells before covering her up and leaving too.

_"I can't wait to hold our child for the first time," Cain's voice came to her mind once more, this time he was smiling as he put his hand on the bump trying to feel it kick, "Especially if she has your eyes."_

"You were wrong, Cain, it was a boy. Fucking idiot, can't even predict the gender of your own child right," Hilda muttered bitterly to no one in particular, wishing she could selectively erase memories. Somehow she didn't feel any better. _Nothing_ made you feel better when your boyfriend turned out to be evil, stupid Death Eater scum.

"Hey," her mother's voice was the first she heard and she turned, attempting a smile as she saw her parents – Philip and Helen, two brothers – Jareth and Kenyon, sister - Joy and even her grandfather Enoch approaching although he looked grim as ever. Why wouldn't he be? This shouldn't be a happy occasion, the baby had bad blood, he was the son of a _Death Eater_. For all she knew she'd just given birth to the next Dark Lord. The others seemed in good spirits, her dad was holding the baby which was the only non-Auror in the room but at least it had stopped crying, "How you feeling, honey?"

"Been better," Hilda answered, not sure how to say to that before being distracted by her father gasping.

"What is it? Did he do something evil?" her grandfather barked immediately.

"What the hell kind of evil do you except a ten minute old baby to do?" Jareth wondered incredulously looking amused while Kenyon and Joy chuckled, their grandfather threw the trio a scowl.

"No," her dad confirmed quickly, looking excited, "He just changed his hair color, he's a metamorphmagus."

"Wow, that's pretty rare," Joy said, also looking excited as she cooed over the baby, "Aw, he's changing his eye color to try look like us."

"Metamorphmagi… not a skill you want on a Dark Wizard," her grandfather growled and Hilda was inclined to agree.

"Father," her dad said warningly to the Head Auror, her grandfather just folded his arms stubbornly, "You promised you'd be nice, the kid's not half an hour old yet just give him a break."

"I was just stating a fact, you're the one who brought up the kid."

"Metamorphmagi is a good skill for an Auror to have," Kenyon pointed out, earning yet another scowl from their grandfather.

"People with bad blood don't wind up on _our _side, that kid's already rotten to the core. You can tell just by looking at him."

"How can you tell by _looking_ at him once for five seconds?!"

"Now who brought up the kid?" Jareth countered.

"Father," her dad reiterated, "Do you _want_ to wait outside? We're here to welcome the newest member of the family so be nice to him."

"I came to see how Hilda was doing _actually_," her grandfather stated testily and Hilda smiled inwardly, she'd always been close to her grandfather. And he was a hard person to be close to.

"I want him here," Hilda spoke up, she figured it was her say since it was her hospital room.

"We really must name this child," her mother spoke up, tactfully moving to change the subject, "Have you thought of one, Hilda?"

"What?! I'm not naming that thing," Hilda protested in shock, "I told you I don't want it and I haven't changed my mind, I'm putting him up for adoption whether you take him or some random people."

"Or we could just chuck it in a river," her grandfather muttered.

"Father!" her dad snapped.

"_Kidding_…" her grandfather insisted, holding up his hands but her dad didn't look convinced. In fact neither was Hilda, her grandfather didn't usually 'kid.'

"Look we know," her dad sighed, turning back to her, "But you have to write the name on the adoption papers anyway, we'd really like you to name him. The last thing you'll ever have to do as his mother."

"Unless you want to change your mind," her mother added quickly.

"I won't," Hilda told them firmly and sighed, "Does it really say that?"

"Yep," her grandfather confirmed and took the parchment out of his pocket, handing it to her where there was a space at the top for the infant's name, "Had them fill it out while we were waiting, figured you'd want it done as soon as possible. I can have it filed when I go into work after this, all we need is a name and your signature."

"Thanks," Hilda offered grateful for one less thing to worry about, she looked to her parents, "So I just need to name this kid?"

"Yep. He's a cutie," her dad confirmed with a smile.

On that note, he re-angled his arms and she saw her son for the very first time. The very first thing she saw was his eyes, boring into hers. But what was most noteworthy were the two colors, just like his father one blue, one gray. She shivered inwardly, feeling like ice was inside her veins. Her grandfather was right, one look and she knew. She knew the bad blood had won even now, he was Cain's son. He was the child of a Death Eater, a Dark Wizard, a murderer. He was going to grow up just the same, just as evil and all the love her family had to offer in the world wouldn't change a damn thing. He was rotten, he was rotten to the core no matter what face he'd wear.

"You see it too," her grandfather stated and Hilda tore her eyes away, not wanting to say anything as he handed her a quill.

She tried to take in her son's other features, his hair was reverting back to the same tawny color as hers but his face was all just small and squishy. In general, he was just really small. She was the second eldest, she recalled Kenyon and Joy both being bigger when they'd been born.

"He's a real pipsqueak, isn't he?" Hilda commented in surprise and they laughed. Except her grandfather, of course. He didn't laugh much.

"Babies tend to be," Jareth pointed out smartly.

"Yeah, Hild, what did you expect? An elephant," Kenyon added teasingly.

She smiled weakly for the first time in months, she did love her family. Her eyes drifted along them, her mother stood closest to her, then her dad, then Jareth, then Kenyon, then Joy and her grandfather stood at the very end of her bed rather than beside. She thought he'd rather change his name then have this child named after him though because she had just thought of a name.

"Philip," Hilda announced.

"What?" her dad queried at the mention of his name.

"The baby's name," Hilda explained as she wrote it down, maybe naming him after people she loved would help his soul since they seemed to believe it could be saved. She didn't. They said the eyes were the window to the soul, his soul must be as dark as his father's, "Philip. Philip Jareth Kenyon Varanian."

"Real original," Jareth laughed as she scrolled through the paper where a signature was necessary with the exception of death, "Not that I'm not honored."

"Won't it get confusing?" Joy wondered.

"Then just call him 'Pipsqueak' for short," Hilda told them as she signed her name to give up parental rights, handing it immediately back to her grandfather.

"Or just Pip," Kenyon suggested and she just shrugged.

"Call him whatever you like, he's not my son anymore. He's just my 'brother,'" Hilda shrugged it off determinedly but seriously, the promise to never reveal it to him had been the only reason she agreed to keep him in the family, "And he'll _never_ know any different."


	24. F: Pyrrhus Florian - Beach Blues

_**Thanks to:** Colin Creevey and randomgerman for reviewing!_

_**Author's Note:** Okay so this isn't the first of 'Bad Blood' or another main series chapter, kind of tried to do both at the same time so kind of finished neither. One is just much longer then I intended because I wanted to emphasize this character's evilness a bit more and one I'm having trouble on the same bit I decided to push back to the next chapter specifically because it was giving me trouble and why the last chapter took long as well. Wanted to post something though and this was almost finished from before so here we go_

**_Was Cain evil really or was she just insane and killed an innocent man?_**  
_A bit of both, you will see it soon_

* * *

_Late August 2004, (Flashback)_

Ten year old Pyrrhus Florian sat on the sandy beach, the sun beating down on his back as he worked on crafting his sandcastle. Trying to tediously implement all the rows of battlements like real castles, he loved history so of course he wanted it to be accurate.

He risked a glance around to check on his family, his dad was lying a few feet away on a beach towel half hidden by the protective windbreaker. He had a book open in hand to pretend to read if necessary but he wasn't reading. Pyrrhus doubted he'd read so much as a single word, it was a hot day and his eyes stalked the innocent children running around playing obliviously, happily. He wished he could be like those kids.

Pyrrhus wondered how they or their parents would feel knowing a lecherous pervert's eyes were crawling over their kids half naked bodies, it made him feel sick at least. That was why he was determinedly wearing a t-shirt, _anything_ to try keep his dad's attention away from him. At least the kids were safe, his dad reserved his urges for his sons like that somehow made it okay. It also made it easier to get away with.

He sighed, trying not to think about what would inevitably happen to him later. If he let himself think about the bad things all the time, he thought it would break him. He continued surveying the small British beach they were holidaying on that summer, looking for his brothers. He spotted his seven year old half-brother Marvin playing at the water's edge with a little girl, he seemed to be having fun.

Pyrrhus made Marvin wear a t-shirt too, he tried to protect the kid. That was what big brothers were _supposed_ to do, it wasn't like anyone else in the world was going to. It wasn't like anyone in the world cared their daddy raped them, their mothers certainly hadn't. People only cared about themselves, he knew that. He sighed sadly and continued looking for his older brother, the fourteen year old budding psychopath Joel.

Joel was the other half brother and was very much like their dad if you stripped away any semblance of the false nicety and replaced it with brutal violence, he was downright sadistic. Pyrrhus wasn't so much worried about keeping Joel safe so much as he worried about keeping people safe _from_ Joel. He finally spotted his brother, worryingly approaching Marvin and the little girl he was playing with.

"Don't go with Joel, don't go with Joel, don't go with Joel," Pyrrhus whispered pleadingly under his breath as his brothers conversed, he must've told Marvin a thousand times to _not_ go with Joel if he could help it. They couldn't escape their dad but they had less excuse to go with their brother, just stay in a public place where he couldn't do anything. It wasn't so hard- "Fuck!"

"Language," his dad chided and Pyrrhus threw him an angry look, he thought it unbelievable his dad had the nerve to chastise him for _anything_ after what _he_ did to them. Still he said nothing, he didn't want an excuse for his dad to hurt him.

He turned his attention quickly back to his brothers, having momentarily forgotten. To his horror, not only had Marvin stupidly agreed to go with Joel but the girl was going on along with them. The trio was making their way towards a secluded part of the beach behind some rocks, Pyrrhus groaned inwardly. He didn't _want_ to have to deal with that, he just wanted to sit here and finish his castle in peace.

He never got what he wanted though, his conscience refused to do nothing with the safety of two children at risk. And so Pyrrhus stood to leave, heading on after his brothers.

"Hurry back, Pyrrhy," his dad called after him causing him to freeze for a second, "I'm going to need you soon."

Pyrrhus shuddered, tempted to suddenly drown himself. He paused again, glancing at the rolling waves for a second before shaking his head of it. He didn't want to die a coward, he _had_ to keep fighting. Besides, he still had to make sure Marvin and the girl was alright.

He clambered over the rocks into a tiny secluded section of beach that was empty, empty except his brothers and the girl. Pyrrhus gasped, seeing a scene he hadn't expected to see. The girl was lying still at the water's edge, the gentlest of waves brushing against her motionless body. She had a cut on the side of her head, the scarlet blood mixing into the cerulean water. Joel and Marvin were just standing beside her.

"What the hell?!" Pyrrhus demanded of them immediately, "What did you do!?"

"I didn't do anything!" Marvin protested, looking horrified he'd ask that and jabbed an accusing finger at Joel, "Joel told her to take off her clothes but she said no and tried to leave, so Joel grabbed her and threw her and she hit her head and fell into the water then was floating face down in the water! I begged Joel to help her - and I _said_ that's what Pyrrhus would do - but he said she should suffer for saying no then he finally did but she's not moving and we didn't know what to do and then you showed up and then I told you what happened!"

"I think she's dead," Joel told him, not even trying to hide the cruel smile tugging the corner of his lips, "Bitch deserved what she got, don't you think?"

"She's like six, you freak!" Pyrrhus cried angrily, rushing to the girl's side and falling to his knees beside her.

"What do we do, Pyrrhus?!" Marvin wondered fearfully as Pyrrhus looked at the cut, he wasn't an expert but he didn't think it looked that bad. Maybe she had just been knocked out and drowned?

"I say we chuck her in the sea, pretend like we never saw her," Joel offered, Pyrrhus threw him a look of disgust, "What? Water washes away evidence. I saw it on TV."

"We're not doing that!" Pyrrhus insisted, trying to remember that once off special first aid lecture and started pushing down on her chest, "We're going to try saving her, with any luck she just drowned."

"We don't _want_ her to wake up, what if she tells people what we did!?" Joel demanded angrily but Pyrrhus didn't stop the compressions.

"Don't you mean what '_we'_ did?" Marvin wondered and scampered away from Joel as the teen raised his fist, Pyrrhus had to deem lifesaving more important and kept giving the compressions, "Sorry!"

"I'm going to try save her, Joel," Pyrrhus insisted, continuing trying to compress life back into her, "And that's that."

"I think it's hopeless, Pyrrhus... Nice of you to try though."

"I don't think that's working," Joel agreed and Pyrrhus did start to feel doubt creeping in, was it supposed to take this long? "Give it up, she's dead. Let's chuck her in the sea."

"I'm not giving up!" Pyrrhus screamed desperately, pushing more frantically, "She was alive when I saw her leave with you!"

"But-"

"She was alive! She was an innocent _normal_ kid with a life and a family and a future and she didn't deserve to die like this!" Pyrrhus yelled.

He was finding tears filling his eyes and had to stop to try wipe them away as guilty sobs tried to wrack him. She remained lifeless and he banged his fist onto the sand in frustration, to his surprise her body lurched abruptly and she spat out water. She then sat up, choking out water and gasping for breath but he felt his brothers' eyes on him not her. That was magic, he was sure he'd just saved her with magic somehow. He didn't actually care how, he was just relieved she was alive.

"Hey, how you feeling? Are you okay?" Pyrrhus prompted of the girl cautiously unsure what to say, patting her back to try help with the water she was spluttering out. It seemed to be stopping though, instead her eyes welled with tears as she looked around with one hand going to the cut on her head.

"Wh- What happened?" the girl asked fearfully, looking very much afraid as she started to cry, "I don't memremberer how I go here and my head hurts and I'm cold and I want my Mummy!"

"It's okay," Pyrrhus assured her gently, catching her teary eyes and trying to give an encouraging smile to calm her, "You were playing on the rocks, you fell and hit your head in the water. Your parents are just over there, why don't we get you over to them okay?"

"Okay," the little girl sniffed.

Pyrrhus threw a glance to Joel to see his brother's reaction to covering for him, the teen just folded his arms watching him crossly. He got to his feet and helped the girl up, she clung to his hand fearfully with a frighteningly vice like grip while the other clutched at her head. He helped her back over the rocks, Marvin and Joel following suit so they got back to the main populated beach.

"So um... what do your parents look like?" Pyrrhus prompted, having no idea where this girl's family was.

"I saw them before, I know where they are," Marvin spoke up, "I can take her to them."

"Really?" the girl asked hopefully, finally letting go of his hand.

"You do that then," Pyrrhus agreed.

Marvin took her hand instead to guide her, the pair running off with confidence towards the mass of sunbathers and windbreakers. Marvin seemed to have been truthful though as he brought her to a woman sunbathing who frantically started trying to see to her cut in panic with the little girl was trying to hug her indefinitely, Marvin slipped away while they were doing that. Heading back towards them at a slower pace, Pyrrhus finally allowed himself a relieved breath. Crisis solved.

"Why did you do that?" Joel demanded of him testily and Pyrrhus panicked for a second before realizing they were definitely too close to random beach goers for Joel to try anything on him.

"Why did I do what?" Pyrrhus asked tiredly.

"Why did you save her? You don't even know that brat."

"Because it's the right thing to do," Pyrrhus pointed out, thinking it a rather stupid question but Joel looked at him like he was mad. Then again, Joel hadn't seemed upset at the thought of _killing_ the girl. Joel was just nasty.

"That's a dumb reason," Joel scoffed, "No one gives a shit what you just did, no one knows, no one cares. She wasn't grateful, her parents weren't grateful and no one even knows your name. You saved a person's life and it doesn't even matter, you're _that_ worthless. If you think you're a hero you're not."

"I didn't say I _was_. The world's such a terrible place, sometimes it's nice to good things for others."

"No, it's just dumb but have fun thinking that while I do bad things to you later," Joel told him dismissively, striding back towards their dad and walking straight through his sandcastle in the process, "Fucking idiot freak."

"Least I'm not a monster," Pyrrhus whispered to himself, hanging his head sadly for his lost sandcastle. He didn't have much choice in his life but he _could_ choose whether to try to be good or try to be evil, if he accomplished nothing else he could try to be good. He thought he could die happy so long as he didn't become a monster. Anything but that.


	25. F: Enoch Varanian - Bad Blood (Part 1)

_**Author's Note:** Thanks so much to TheGreatAthlon5 for reviewing! And no, he didn't pursue his love of history, he couldn't since the Shadows ended up controlling his life._

* * *

_June 30th 1900, (Flashback)_

Enoch Everett Cathal Varanian sat alone in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express, listening to the train chuntering along in silence as it carried him back to London. He gazed out of the window with gray eyes gritty from tiredness, watching the scenery speeding by through the raindrops with a grim expression. It wasn't that he disliked the rain, his expression was always grim. He was a grim person even though he was only sixteen, he'd just done his OWLs. Not that they mattered to him, he'd done what was required of him and he didn't really care what grades they gave him. He had no goals or ambitions, no hopes or dreams so grades for NEWTs subjects and careers didn't matter.

He noticed the scenery shift to recognizable London, his expression remained grim as the pit of dread welled in his stomach. He didn't want to home, he never wanted to go home. Not that he liked Hogwarts much either but it was a respite from the mad monster who had sired him, he hadn't even realized it was possible to _not_ be in pain until he started Hogwarts and his wounds had had time to heal. Unfortunately, his mother got no such break and he regretted that. Really he did but it wasn't like he had a choice, Savas - his father - had decided he would go and… well what Savas decided happened.

Enoch got up, making sure the curtains of the compartment were closed properly and the door firmly locked before changing out of his Gryffindor robes. He had to be careful, he didn't want anyone to see his scars which were numerous. The train pulled into the station a minute after that and he took a breath, collecting up his things and heading out through the throng of students saying goodbye to their friends and greeting their families. Enoch had neither, he had no friends - Savas had decided he shouldn't have any a long time ago, or they'd be killed - and he was expected to make his own way home because Savas had decided his mother wasn't allowed to leave the house.

He didn't mind so much, he was so used to being alone by now he didn't care and he wasn't a little eleven year old having to drag his heavy trunk through the streets of London. He wasn't as strong as he'd like, he was very lanky with not much meat on his bones but he was tall and had put the Featherlight Charm on his trunk before leaving school. He lived in London anyway so it wasn't _that_ far to home, the rain was a little annoying now though it was soaking him through. That was British summer for you. He let out a breath as he reached the door to their town house, bracing himself mentally as he unlocked the door with his key and went inside.

It was dark and empty inside, black floorboards stretching out to the black wooden staircase and the black wooden doors either side leading to the other rooms. The walls were half black wood and half painted a dark navy, any windows closed with black shutters and the only light came from bluebell flames. There was nothing else in the entrance hall, no furniture and no pictures on the walls. Savas had decided it would be that way, it made it more disorientating and harder for people to see in if most of the house was like that, it was a big house for only three people even with Savas also working from home – he was an alchemist – so plenty of spare rooms across five stories including a basement.

"Ah, Enoch! My boy, you have returned," his father's voice called pleasantly and Enoch squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, bracing himself further and when he opened them his father had finished climbing down the stairs to stand before him in plain wizarding robes, the one and only Savas Herod Velibor Varanian.

The strangest thing was, Savas didn't _look_ like a monster. He wasn't tall or hulking, if anything he was average height at most – Enoch was taller than him now – and fairly lanky. He wasn't grotesque in appearance either, he looked perfectly normal and had a strangely youthful boyish face. He didn't even look grim like Enoch, he was quite cheerful and smiley until something didn't go his way. He had short, very neatly cropped black hair and sharp silvery eyes that seemed to bore into your soul. Enoch was very glad he took after his mother in terms of appearance.

"I trust you had a pleasant trip back?" Savas queried, even his voice not sounding monstrous but quite high-pitched. Enoch's voice sounded more threatening than his now that it had broken.

"It was satisfactory, Father," Enoch answered neutrally, tensing slightly in case the answer would anger his father. Savas had such volatile mood swings, you could never be certain what would or wouldn't set him off.

"Excellent," Savas continued brightly and whipped out his wand, Enoch tensed further but Savas only aimed it as his trunk to send it speeding off to go to his room then twirling it at the door to reseal the door, "I'd like you to go make dinner now I've taken care of your trunk, I'll be downstairs when it's done."

"Wait, what?" Enoch wondered in confusion as Savas turned on his heel to leave, "Why am I making dinner? Why not Mother?"

"Your Mother isn't quite… up to doing that right now," Savas answered cautiously, freezing in place and glancing back over his shoulder with those piercing, "I know its woman's work to cook but sometimes these things must be done so go do it."

"What's wrong with Mother?" Enoch demanded in a darker tone, his concern for her getting the better of him and Savas' eyes narrowed.

He shouldn't have said that. In the next instance of lightning speed, Savas had jabbed his wand at Enoch. Enoch heard a crunching sound, felt an explosion of pain from it and was propelled back against the wall violently all in one moment. He hit the wall and slunk to the ground, gasping for breath against the pain and clutching at his searing chest of cracked rips. Savas stood perfectly still, in the same place he'd been only looking over his shoulder with a pouting expression.

"You should know better than to question your elders, Enoch," Savas told him calmly, brushing himself off, "I expect dinner to be served soon, I will be the only one eating. You've lost your eating privileges for the rest of the week and your mother does not need sustenance."

"_Why?_" Enoch croaked out through gritted against the pain, knowing he might pay for this but it was mother, "_Why_ doesn't she? What did you do to her?! Tell me! I'm not going to shut up until you do, punish me all you want but it'll be awhile until you get to eat."

"Is that so?" Savas queried, cocking his head to one side thoughtfully with his disturbing eyes burrowing into his soul. Enoch nodded and couldn't help but flinch as Savas' wand drifted across him, fearing whatever was probably coming as punishment. To his surprise though, Savas lowered his arm and his demented grin returned, "Yes, yes of _course_ you should see your mother, I forget you have an unhealthy attachment to that woman just because she fulfilled her biological function to expel you from her vagina. Come now, my boy, I can indulge you before you make dinner. I'm too kind, that's my problem. I'm just _too_ kind to you."

"Thank you, Father," Enoch muttered just in case he'd be accused of being ungrateful and Savas' mind would change, struggling to get to his feet through the pain and hobble after his smiling father who started to lead him through the house humming merrily.

"So I was thinking tonight I fancy some nice mutton today," Savas commented pleasantly as he followed him with an increasingly bad feeling as he took him to the stairs to the basement, Enoch couldn't help but shiver from the cold dread creeping up his spine. The basement was where Savas did his experiments, most who were victims of his experiments weren't allowed to leave alive and Enoch found himself wishing he wasn't either by the time he'd be done when he himself was the victim of such atrocities, "I have some fresh, it shouldn't be difficult for you to do I imagine since you're a male. Obviously if cooking is simple enough that _women_ can do it, men can do it better."

"I'll do my best, Father," Enoch assured him as Savas tapped his wand up the length of the door, unlocking it and dropping the protective enchantments.

"There's a cookery book so it should be simple as following instruction, you're not a peasant woman so I trust you can read it just fine," Savas continued conversationally as he pulled open the door before glancing back to him still with a smile, "Oh and Enoch?"

"Yes, Father?"

"_Don't_ defy me like you did," Savas told him, his expression shifting to one of immediate darkness as his smile was wiped.

Enoch guessed what was coming a second before it happened but was helpless to do anything to stop it as Savas jabbed his wand at him once more, he screamed as flames erupted across his spine. He was only aware of them from the agonizing pain and the sickening stench of his skin burning, both of which were familiar to him. Savas tripped him and Enoch tumbled painfully down the stairs, each step cutting into the sensitive burning flesh but the fire stopped by the time he hit the cold flagged stone ground face first. And Savas still wasn't done.

Still on the ground, Enoch felt as if a whip – in truth just a spell – cracking against his still raw back burns. And again. And again. And again. And again… Enoch found himself drifting in and out of consciousness from the pain, or maybe he just lost track of the slashes and the blows as violent kicks alone broke up the spell biting into his burned back. Finally it was over though, he could feel the blood rolling down his back.

"Well come on then, you silly goose," Savas said cheerfully, smiling brightly as he kicked at his broken ribs causing Enoch to whimper in pain, "Or do you not want to see your mother after all?"

"I do," Enoch insisted, his voice coming out a lot weaker then he wished it would

He tried to get to his knees despite the pain while Savas' footsteps moved away, every slow slight movement sending shockwaves of pain to his mind that threatened to send him spiraling back into unconscious. He was so focused on just getting through it he tried not to look around, a brief glance confirmed it was much the same as he remembered it.

Tables with straps to hold down victims, instruments of torture and dark magic, vials of dark alchemical concoctions, jars of organs – literally human organs from Savas' victims – and pieces of people he'd killed hanging from meat hooks, some occasional still whole corpses he hadn't gotten to yet. It smelled like blood and death, it made him feel sick and because of that he didn't notice much else until he felt liquid on his back and the pain evaporated everywhere the cool liquid touched.

He looked up to his father pouring it over his back to heal him, still smiling. Despite this, Enoch had never had any doubts his father was bad to the core and had realized it from the youngest age. Savas was a _monster_. And nothing terrified Enoch more that the fact he'd come from that, the same bad blood ran through his veins. He felt unclean just for existing, this wasn't normal.

"Aren't I good to you?" Savas reiterated as he put down the jar, completely unperturbed. And Enoch noticed something else, silence. He couldn't hear anyone else in the room breathing.

"Where's my mother?" Enoch whispered fearfully.

Savas smiled, cocking his head to one side while his silvery eyes continued to bore into him. He then flicked his wand above, there was a clink and a body dropped right in front of him. Enoch had to resist the urge to gag, it had been horrifically mutilated and most of the skin had been melted away. He went to look away in disgust but froze, spotting the decorative wedding ring on one of the fingers. The same one his mother had worn.

"You killed her?" Enoch choked out, tears escaping from his eyes as he felt like his spirit was being ripped from his body.

"Only because I'm merciful, she was begging for it in the end," Savas answered calmly before cackling with demented laughter, Enoch looked at him as his father sobered, "It's hilarious really, out of the blue she comes to me and tells me that she's leaving me. _She_ is going to leave _me_. Can you believe that? She's was my wife, I _owned_ her but she thought she could leave? Isn't that funny, Enoch? It's like she thought she was people."

"You could've just said no," Enoch croaked although he didn't agree, hot tears falling from his eyes, "You didn't have to kill her for that."

"Oh but I _did_," Savas insisted conversationally and laughed again, "She thought I would _allow_ her to leave and take you away from me if she just kept silent about my 'crimes,' some of my experiments could be construed as murder after all because the law fails to understand the lengths one should be allowed to go through in the pursuit of knowledge. Anyway, even for a woman your mother was fairly stupid as somehow it didn't register in her puny little mind that killing her would effectively silence her but also allow me to keep my son and my dignity. She became my next experiment and a rather successful one at that, and _then_ I gutted her like that filthy whore deserved."

Enoch turned away, back to his mother's broken body. This time rage brewed in place of grief, she'd died horribly just because she'd found the courage to try to stand up a monster. She hadn't deserved that, she hadn't. Enoch looked back to his father with loathing in his eyes, Savas was just looking over his silver pocket watch with a 'V' on the front casually. No. He wasn't going to let Savas get away with this anymore, he'd just killed the only thing Enoch had in the whole world that mattered to him so what did he even have to lose?

"So now you know, I'd like you to get started on my mutton," Savas decided in the same pleasant tone as he pocketed his watch, "It's getting late and I'm getting rather hungry."

"No," Enoch growled, getting to his feet. Savas looked surprised, "You killed my _mother_."

Savas made to jab his wand at him but Enoch had expected that, he jumped out of the way and slashed at his father with the Acutus Curse. Savas swung his wand back protectively and sparks from the clashing spells spat from the air, launching a second slash at Enoch but he countered it easily and whipped his wand back again. Savas barely parried it at a crossed enough angle to block the spell, making it dawn on Enoch that Savas wasn't used to this, he was fast certainly – although so was Enoch - but not a duelist, maybe that was why he preferred to target muggles? Savas had never seemed to care for blood purity surprisingly enough. Enoch didn't want to get cocky but he did feel a bubble of hope swell, not that his father cared but Enoch's best subject was Defense Against the Dark Arts and the dueling aspect was the part he was most skilled at.

"Enoch, stop this," Savas complained at him, sounding rather displeased as Enoch kept barraging him with Acuta waiting for him to slip up in countering them, "I will- ARGH!"

Savas cried out in pain as he did finally slip up, the curse striking through the shoulder not his wand arm. He jabbed his wand at Enoch instead but Enoch launched a simple Shield Charm, deflecting the beam of light and slashing Acuta while he was briefly covered by the light of the shield. Savas was taken by surprise and screamed as he was knocked back, the curse tearing through his chest and spraying Enoch with a spattering of blood.

Enoch didn't care though, not even slightly. He charmed the meat hooks while Savas tried to sit up, quickly screaming in pain as they punched through him and the chains wrapped themselves around him to hold him in place. One of them targeting his wrist of course, forcing him to drop his wand that Enoch kicked cleanly away from him. He held his wand on his father who was coughing up blood, held in place by his own meat hooks. To his surprise, Savas laughed. A long, empty laugh.

"Well, well look who's Daddy's little boy after all?" Savas cackled, smiling dementedly with his own blood drooling from his lips, "I'm kind of angry at you right now but I'm also kind of proud, Enoch, I'm so glad you're like me."

"I'm nothing like you!" Enoch yelled angrily while Savas choked on his own blood some more, "Nothing! Nothing at all! You hurt people! You kill them!"

"I'm coughing up my own blood and have these hooks in me," Savas pointed out, jangling the chains and his face paled slightly at the pain it must have aggravated but he kept smiling, "I'm in _pain_. All the ways you could disarm someone and best them in a duel and you did it in a violent, painful way. You want me to suffer, you _like_ it and you're no doubt considering murdering me right now."

"That's different."

"No its not," Savas insisted and Enoch looked at his own wand waveringly for the first time, "You're deluding yourself if you think different. The same blood runs through our veins, Enoch. Bad blood, my boy, bad blood and you're only proving it if you kill me."

"Is that your way of begging for your pathetic life?" Enoch wondered and Savas laughed again, laughed until it devolved to blood spluttering out.

"_No_. It's just a fact and either way I win, I get to live or I get to die knowing you're on the path to continuing my legacy whereas you either get to face severe – and I mean _severe_ – punishment for this or you get to become like me," Savas informed before coughing up more blood, he grinned as his head lolled though while Enoch tried to figure out what he should do, "_Or_, I could just do this."

Savas opened the palm of his hand and there was just a blinding explosion of silver light, Enoch wasn't sure if it was some kind of wandless spell but it didn't come out as a jet to dodge just… everywhere. It pierced him whatever it was and Enoch lost all sense of reality as he was overwhelmed by pain, a worse pain then anything his father had done to him including the Cruciatus Curse. It felt like it was more than skin deep, it went beyond and seemed to hurt on a level he couldn't describe, that he hadn't even realized was there. He didn't realize anything other than he hurt, he thought he was screaming and on the ground but he really didn't know.

"Feel that, Enoch? I'm _tearing_ your _soul_, I-" Savas' voice mocked distantly, cackling before it become spluttering.

The pain stopped abruptly, Savas probably distracted by his coughing momentarily. Enoch found he was lying face down on the ground, his face wet with tears and still feeling achy from the pain. His ribs also burned more from screaming but it paled in comparison. He knew he couldn't just lie there in pain though, Savas would no doubt hit him again.

Enoch scrabbled for his wand and jabbed his wand, Savas screamed as his hand was fractured but Enoch didn't let himself relax. He pulled his shaking body to his knees so he was on eye level with Savas and held his wand to the side of his father's head, he knew what he was going to do.

"_Avada Kedavra_," Enoch breathed.

There was a blinding flash of green and for the briefest of seconds he thought he saw a flicker of fear in his father's eyes, then they were just empty. Savas was dead. Enoch fell back, breathing heavily and still shaking.

He'd killed his father, Enoch didn't think he'd ever felt so relieved about anything in his life. He felt no regret, no sorrow. He was just glad. Maybe the souls of Savas' victims could rest easy knowing they'd finally gotten justice, he hoped his mother was at peace at least. He waved his wand to sever the chains binding Savas, letting his body drop to the ground where it belonged. He pulled his body back, leaning back against the wall in the gloom waiting for the pain to recede. Now what?

_Bad blood_. He had bad blood in his veins, possibly the only thing he agreed with Savas on. He didn't know how likely he was to become a psychotic monster but he certainly felt nothing negative from killing Savas, he probably should but he didn't. He dragged his wand slowly into his hand. He could make sure he never did, that his family legacy died with him. No goals and ambitions, no hopes and dreams, no friends or family. Enoch held his wand to aim up at his jaw, he allowed his tired eyes to finally close and took a long, last breath and cracked a weak smile. It'd be over soon.

"_Avada_-"

_BANG!_

"Auror Department! Throw your wands onto the ground and put your hands above your heads!" a voice boomed and Enoch started in shock as two Aurors burst into the room, he threw his wand down instinctively and put his hands up as he jumped shakily to his feet while one Auror checked the room. The speaker collected his wand and approached him, keeping his wand on him, "Enoch Varanian? Your Trace detected use of underage magic, including the illegal Killing Curse."

"Yes," Enoch confirmed readily, he wouldn't hide his crime like Savas, "I murdered my father."

"And- And this?" the second Auror stammered, looking quite sickened as he gestured to his mother.

"My mother, my father killed her. He's killed a lot of people, he's a serial killer. He mostly targets muggles, I believe they use to call him Jack the Ripper," Enoch informed them and the two Aurors exchanged a look.

"Well we're going to have to take you in until we sort this out," the first said and Enoch held out his wrists in resignation.

"I understand."

Enoch was arrested and brought to the cells in the Ministry, despite this he felt oddly free knowing his father was dead. He wasn't sure how much time passed before they came back to get him, sleep actually came easy to him for once and he didn't know how long he spent drifting in and out of dreamless consciousness waiting.

Eventually they did come back for him though and his wounds were seen to – thankfully healing his ribs, they did nothing for the receding other pain though - then he was brought to an interrogation room, they asked after his father's crimes and more detail over his decision to kill his father. He calmly recounted to them everything he knew, finding no point shying away from the truth now although things he felt were too personal or irrelevant he glossed over a bit. They asked a couple of questions for more details that he answered to the best of his ability before leaving him alone again, Enoch just sat silently.

"Alright son," one of the Aurors said as the arresting pair returned, sitting opposite him once more, "We have found sufficient evidence to back your claims, Savas Varanian was a Dark Wizard and a serial killer. One we'd been looking for actually."

"I wish you'd found him," Enoch said pointedly and the Auror fidgeted.

"Yes, so do we. It's quite embarrassing really."

"Unfortunately, you still committed a crime in murdering him with Unforgivable magic," the second Auror spoke up, "You should be sent to Azkaban."

"I figured," Enoch confirmed with a resigned nod, wondering whether he should take the wrath of Dementors like a man or find a way to die before then like he'd planned to.

"_But_," the first one Auror took back the conversation again, earning a glance from Enoch, "Due to the circumstances, the Law Department may have a way to get around it. Aurors have the right to kill Dark Wizards in extreme circumstances, you see."

"But I'm not an Auror, I'm only sixteen."

"You're not but if you agree to become one, you'll be allowed leniency. You may have to go to Azkaban until the time of your seventeenth birthday, after which time you'll begin training as an Auror or just imprisoned this summer before finishing your Hogwarts education before entering into Auror training. The details still need to be worked out but the point is you'd be allowed leniency if you become an Auror, you'll be able to live a normal life."

"I'll just have to catch Dark Wizards," Enoch pointed out although actually he found himself quite liking the idea, what better way to make sure he didn't become a Dark Wizard then being one of the ones standing against them? He certainly wasn't against stopping more monsters like Savas and he did like to duel. It was probably better then Azkaban or death.

"It's a living," the second Auror shrugged.

"Reckon you'd be good at it too," the first Auror added and Enoch took another before nodding.

"Alright," Enoch agreed, "I'll become an Auror."


	26. F: Hilda Varanian - Bad Blood (Part 2)

_**Thanks to:** Lucifersdaughter, axelnite and Colin Creevey for reviewing!_

**_Could we see more of Molly?_**  
_Not immediately but yes, I can definitely do that scene_

**_What's Enoch's reasoning for trusting Phillip but not Pip?_**  
_He thought Philip's mothers blood could offset his bad blood, Pip had bad from both sides_

**_If Scorpius kills Sal, does Harry get to arrest Scorpius for high treason in insulting the Auror department indirectly and force him into service as well? Or did the Auror department change after this? Or was it the Killing Curse? Like, what if Enoch killed his father with- say- Acuta?_**  
_Probably not as things changed and Sal is more of a threat, it was also more because it was the Killing Curse (supposed to be an unforgivable life sentence). If it had been Acuta they could have written it off as self defense_

* * *

_March 31st 1972, (Flashback)_

"So what do you think for names?" Hilda asked of her boyfriend, Cain Selwyn, returning from the bathroom and cuddling up with him on the couch.

She was quite bored now she was on maternity leave, she wished their baby would just hurry up and be born already. She missed her job and if she had to miss work, she'd rather be getting to hold her child in her arms not her stomach. Cain didn't have a job, his family was wealthy enough he could just buy this place and live comfortably so he was usually around. She thought in a way it was a shame though really, Cain had a brilliant mind and had been a straight O student but was rather lazy about applying it since he didn't have to with his family's money. For now though, she was glad for the company. When he was actually listening anyway.

"Cain?" she prompted once more when he said nothing.

"Hmm?" Cain mused, seemingly having been lost in thought as he glanced at her with his mismatched eyes shadowed with tiredness, "Are you okay? Is your morning sickness back?"

"Names? For our child?" Hilda pressed as patronizingly as possible to tease him for his lack of attention, he usually was more invested in this.

"Oh right, yeah," Cain muttered, bobbing his head and putting a hand to her swollen stomach that his eyes drifted to but he gave no further contribution.

"I quite like Melissa, or Michelle. Could always go the family name route with Effie or Ilene. I think Ora is my favorite though."

"What if it's a boy?"

"Oh, I already know what I'm calling it if it's a boy," Hilda told him confidently, his eyes drifted back to her with the slightest hint of curiosity, "Elias."

"No," Cain groaned, burying his now scarlet face in his hands and she grinned at finally getting a reaction out of him. She had no idea what was with him today, "Not Elias. Why in the world would you inflict such a horrific name on our child?"

"Aw come on, Elias isn't that bad. It is _your_ name after all."

"Yes it is, so I _know_ how awful it is which is why I _purposely_ go by my middle name."

"But it has a nice ring to it," Hilda insisted determinedly, "Elias Cain Enoch Varanian."

"Varanian?" Cain repeated, raising his face from his hands with a puzzled look.

"I'm not going to let my baby have a different last name to me, if you wanted it to be a Selwyn you should have married me when you had the chance," Hilda told him with a dismissive shrug, "It's all the more reason to name him after you if you want a slice of baby name. That sounds weird."

"Hmm," Cain said again, leaning back and looking distant again.

"Something bothering you?" Hilda asked him, not for the first time today.

"Hmm?"

"I asked if you were _okay_," Hilda reiterated in frustration, "I'm trying to have a conversation with you, I don't know if you've noticed."

"I'm just tired," Cain shook his head.

"Then go to bed," Hilda told him the rather obvious, gesturing to the direction of their room.

"It's not that easy to just sleep."

"So there's something on your mind, so tell me," Hilda deduced and pressed, trying very much not to sound like she was interrogating a Dark Wizard at work, "Either that or suck it the hell up and converse with the woman carrying your baby."

"Hilda…" Cain started to say, taking her hands and staring at her bump. He sighed, "I love you."

"I should hope so," Hilda offered but he looked pretty worried, as much as she hated sappy romantic crap she squeezed his hands gently. Whatever made him feel less insecure, "I love you too."

"And… I love our child and I just… I just want to do right by you and our baby. But it's hard…" Cain continued, struggling through the words and looking anywhere but at her. His voice dropped to barely more than a whisper, "I did something, Hild, I did something stupid, something bad."

"What?" Hilda pressed suspiciously, starting to feel concerned now and he opened and closed his mouth several times, finally he just swallowed.

"It's hard to say."

"Open your mouth and make words come out," Hilda told him and he pulled his hands away, looking upset.

"I can't tell you."

"Then why-"

"But I can show you," Cain whispered.

On that note, he stood up and Hilda followed suite although she had no idea why. Cain took out his wand and started to roll up his sleeve, he then waved his wand over his bare flesh. She watched in horror as the brand slowly started to unveil, the snake twisting out of the mouth of a skull. A symbol she – especially as an Auror – was all too familiar with, the Dark Mark. She felt her heart ignite with rage and jumped further back as she whipped her wand out on him, he threw his wand down onto the ground and held up his hands as if that somehow made him innocent.

"What the fuck where you thinking, Cain!?" Hilda spat at him angrily, "Joining the Death Eaters! Those scumbags spouting pure blood supremacy and serving that psychopath those cowards fear to speak the name of! What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I don't know!" Cain shrieked, looking miserable, "It's what my family believes. I thought they'd be proud, I thought it'd be something worthwhile I could do with my life."

"Well I hope you are bloody happy with yourself!" Hilda shot out, still shocked and incredulous that he'd just say this, "And what?! You expect me to be _okay_ with this?! To ignore my morals, everything I stand for!? I'm an _Auror_, Cain! I hunt these people _for a living!"_

"I know," Cain croaked, "That's why… That's why they wanted me to get close to you."

"No," Hilda breathed as a cold swept through her, backing away and shaking her head as her mind refused to believe it, "You didn't."

"Your grandfather's Head Auror, they wanted me to get close to you. Get information," Cain admitted, still holding up his shaking hands as he moved closer to her.

"It was all a lie?!" Hilda raged at him, feeling as if some part of her was imploding as the hurt broke her somewhere deep inside. She wanted to cry and scream all at once, her body burned to from the torrent of emotional hell she was feeling but she'd been trained well. She kept herself composed, trembling being the only hint of the turmoil aside the expression inevitably twisting her features.

"It was _supposed_ to be," Cain said tearfully, "But… But I fell for you, for real. I love you, Hilda, for _real_ I swear. And our baby. I want to be a good dad, I want to do right by the baby, by you. I don't care about the Dark Lord anymore, I don't want to be a Death Eater anymore. I just want to do the right thing, I'll do whatever you want, tell you all the information I have."

"And how the fuck am I supposed to believe that, Cain?!" Hilda yelled at him, her eyes breaking as tears tried to get through. She'd never felt so hurt and betrayed in her life, nothing even came close, "How am I supposed to believe anything you say after this?! You're everything I hate, everything I fight against and you're a fucking liar on top of it all! You lied to me this whole time!"

"I'm not lying now and I never lied about loving you."

"Don't give me that fucking crap!"

"I love you," his voice came out desperately, eyes still watering and holding out hands, "I swear, Hilda, I just want to do right by you and our child. I don't want to be a Death Eater anymore. I _swear_."

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Hilda cried unthinkingly as she felt their baby kick her inside.

Some part of her screamed out in horror, Cain's mismatched eyes widened in shock as the jet of green struck him and every last second seemed to take a lifetime as it bored itself into her brain. His lifeless body hit the ground, his head lolled and his glazed eyes gazed off into nothing. He was dead, he was really dead. She'd killed him.

She was shaking violently as her arm dropped as if her wand suddenly had the weight of a steel bar, the world swimming around her. She felt like she was drowning, she couldn't breathe and heard something smashing around her. She didn't know whether she wanted to cry or scream or collapse or throw up, that or just cease to exist. That'd be nice. She didn't want to be there, not in that room, not in her skin, not with his body…

_No_, she told herself firmly, shaking her head as her eyes touched his Dark Mark. Why should she feel bad? _He_ was the one who betrayed her, _he_ was the one who chose to be a Death Eater. He was bad, he was the one who'd chosen to be bad. She'd done a good thing, she'd taken down a Dark Wizard. A Dark Wizard who'd been spying, getting information on the Aurors to betray her. Fuck Cain. He was bad, he was just bad.

She calmed down and wiped at her eyes furiously, refusing to let herself feel bad. She wasn't weak. She looked around the room, seeing him lying there and some ornaments that had smashed… she must've had a magical outburst while panicking. She could use some help right now. She went over to the fireplace and threw some Floo powder in, calling for the Auror Office and sticking her head in and hearing her grandfather's voice.

"I need you," Hilda said before pulling out.

She stepped away, if he heard he'd come if he could. Her grandfather – her family in general - had never let her down, _he_ wasn't bad at least. He couldn't be, she could only take so many people she loved turning evil. A second later the grizzled Head Auror stepped out of the fireplace, followed by her dad who she could only guess had been in the room at the time. Her grandfather's eyes methodically scanned the room to take in the room while her dad went to her immediately, full of concern.

"Hilda, are you alright?" her dad asked her worriedly, putting his arms around her and she let herself be enveloped in a hug.

"He was a Death Eater," Hilda whispered into his shoulder and he pulled away startled, finding it hard to meet his eyes but she still felt the panicked shock in his movements alone, "Cain, I mean."

"What happened? Did he attack you?!"

"It was all a lie, he was just trying to get information."

"Hilda, he wasn't armed when he died," her grandfather commented from beyond them.

"I killed him."

"You can't just kill people in cold blood!" her dad protested in horror, "Hilda, even we need reasons, you could go to Azkaban."

"He was a Death Eater!" Hilda shrieked, feeling her heart racing in panic, "He was bad! I had to kill him, I _had_ to. I had to. I had to. I had-"

"Okay, okay you had to," her dad agreed, putting his arms around her gently and she realized she'd started shaking again, "It's okay, sweetheart it's going to be okay. Calm down, okay? It's okay."

"This is what we're going to do," her grandfather spoke up with an even grimmer expression than usual, drawing both of their attention back to him and she saw him levitate Cain's wand over to his dead hand.

"You can't tamper with the scene!"

"Oh shut up, would you rather she go to Azkaban for a Killing Curse in cold blood?" her grandfather barked and her dad fell silent, "He _was_ a Death Eater, he attacked her and she killed him in self-defense. You did the right, Hilda, he was bad."

"He was bad," Hilda repeated quietly, "Death Eaters are bad."

"I'll call this in, take her to St Mungo's and make sure she's alright. She seems kind of out of it."

"I'm fine," Hilda lied before feeling the baby kick again, _his_ baby she recalled as she put her hands to her swollen stomach. Suddenly feeling like she had something vile and dark that Cain had left brewing inside her, she didn't want it, "I- I need to get an abortion."

"What?!" her dad blurted out in shock.

"Yes," her grandfather agreed and her dad glared at him angrily, "It has bad blood, get rid of it."

"Would you shut up with this bad blood crap?!"

"It's _his_ baby, its bad," Hilda muttered, her eyes drifting back to Cain and the Dark Mark on his arm, "I can't deal with it, I don't want it."

"They're not going to let you, I'm pretty sure you're too far gone for them to legally abort anyway since its due in July," her dad told her gently, "Just calm down, okay? You're not in the best frame of mind to be thinking of these things, you're in shock. Let's get you to St Mungo's and you some rest, think about it more later."

"I don't want his baby, its _bad_," Hilda said with certainty, "I can feel it. Bad blood, I can feel it."


	27. VII: Cade Knox - The Nightmare

_**Author's Note:** I know this probably isn't the update people are wanting or what I intended to update next but its been too long since I updated this and I have a bunch of half-written Extras clogging the document that I'd really just like to clear out so I'm doing that. These aren't the ones people wanted, these are stuff I just personally felt like writing (hence why I didn't want to put them next) but its driving my brain crazy. So I'm posting these three from book VII today, this one is Cade dealing with his new foster son Amadeus, the next one is on a minor character you haven't met yet but will be in book XII and the third is on Lamb trying to see his daughter then soon you should hopefully get three Flashback ones  
_

* * *

_April 30th 2024, (VII: Chapter 12)_

Cade Knox jolted sharply awake at the sound of an increasingly familiar scream, it belonged to his new foster son Amadeus. Tabitha stirred as well but this was on him, he muttered to her to go back to sleep before hurrying to Amadeus' room. He flicked on the light and was shocked to find Amadeus pressed against the wall sobbing brokenly, flinching violently every few seconds and his body jerking as if he was reacting to a blow even though he was alone.

"Amadeus?" Cade called out to him as he approached but Amadeus didn't seem to have heard him, he reached him and crouched by the boy. He had been reassured Amadeus had apparently been tested – repeatedly – and was perfectly capable of speaking despite his silence so Cade saw no reason to not talk to him, maybe it would even encourage him to speak, "Amadeus, whatever you're reacting to isn't real. You're safe."

No change.

"Amadeus?" Cade prompted again, this time reaching out to shake Amadeus' shoulder gently which made the boy scream, "Amadeus, snap out of it. You're okay, you're safe now."

Amadeus whimpered and crawled back from him into the corner but he did finally look at him and seemed to recognize his presence, he stopped flinching from non-existent blows anyway. He continued to cower in the corner, shaking horribly as silent tears rolled down his cheeks. Cade moved closer and as much as he just wanted to give the poor kid a hug, it didn't go unnoticed how Amadeus tensed when he got close. Still, he wasn't going to just go back to bed while Amadeus was upset.

"Bad dream?" Cade guessed and Amadeus spared him a glance, his eyes still shining with fear and tears as he nodded a bit but also shrugged, "You know sometimes it helps to talk about things."

He seemingly lost Amadeus' interest at that as the boy looked away again. Cade sighed and leaned back against the wall, he hadn't really expected Amadeus to feel like speaking but it had still been worth a shot. He was actually hoping to try teaching him sign language, Amadeus might not like talking with his mouth but he hoped talking with his hands might appeal to him as he could still communicate but didn't have to speak. He'd only had the kid a day though so that wasn't much help now this second, he'd have to try another approach.

"Sometimes I get nightmares too, you know?" Cade offered gently and Amadeus' eyes drifted back to him interestedly, he selfishly almost wished he hadn't so he wouldn't have to talk about it, "My ex-wife… she was a witch, a dark witch and she um… she used to hurt me with her magic. Even though she's gone now – she died – I still have bad dreams about her hurting me sometimes, do you understand?"

Amadeus nodded faster in agreement then Cade had seen him yet.

"Do you ever have bad dreams about people who've hurt you?"

Amadeus nodded again, shuddering from a silent sob and wiped at his still streaming eyes. Cade tried to reach out to him instinctively to comfort him but Amadeus backed off again, pressing himself into the wall again as he continued to tremble. Cade's heart went out to him, it really did.

"My point is that you're not alone, Amadeus," Cade continued softly and the small boy's dark eyes drifted shakily back to him, "When you've been hurt its normal to get bad dreams, it's just your brain getting stuck on the bad things and having a hard time accepting that it's over, that you're safe now."

Amadeus' eyes shifted dubiously.

"You _are_ safe," Cade reiterated and gestured around the empty room, it was pretty bland but he'd done that deliberately in the hopes letting Amadeus have some creative control would help him feel more at home there, "See? Just you and me, I'm not hurting you, no one is hurting you. I won't let them."

Amadeus' expression was blank as his eyes swiveled the room, he was still shaking. Cade wished he knew exactly what he was reacting to, it would help in consoling him. He knew the father was abusive but didn't know the details nor did he want to jump to conclusions that was it, it _seemed_ like it was in this instance but the mute had been through other traumatic things like witnessing brutal murders and being hit by a truck in foster care. And that was only what he _was_ aware of, who knew what else the silent child been through?

"Sometimes talking helps, you know? It can get it out of your mind a bit," Cade offered and quickly lost Amadeus' attention as the child looked away disinterestedly, he'd expected as much but it was worth saying, "Its fine if you don't want to but I'm here if you need me, okay? It's your choice."

Amadeus nodded disinterestedly and curled more into a ball, still trembling as he gazed off. He needed to take his mind off things, make him more engaged in the present so he'd not slip back into those dark thoughts and talking wasn't so good for that when it was completely one-sided.

"Come on," Cade urged the child as he got to his feet, Amadeus' head snapped back to him in surprise and Cade held out his hand to help him up. Amadeus didn't take it, "Come on, I'm going to show you how I get the dreams out of my mind."

Amadeus still didn't take his hand but he got to his feet, arms wrapped protectively around himself and still shaking but he seemed willing. Cade led him downstairs and booted up the TV, some of the dogs had nosily followed and sprawled out on the couch. Amadeus cautiously petted one of them and Cade smiled slightly, hopefully he could find some comfort in canines what he wasn't ready to get from Cade yet. It wasn't what he'd intended but dogs helped, Amadeus seemed to becoming increasingly comfortable with them and it was better than the boy trying to wedge himself in his favorite gap behind the couch. That wasn't fun to deal with, he didn't want Amadeus to feel like a prisoner but he wanted him to stay in sight especially when he was trying to spend time with him to get to know him. At any rate he wasn't doing it now so he left his foster son cautiously stroking the dogs. Unlike a lot of kids, Amadeus was actually extremely gently with most everything.

Instead he looked through his videogame collection, he had found it surprisingly helpful with the nightmares. Watching television or film to distract himself wasn't engaging enough, it was all too easy for his mind to zone out while books you had to engage with more but they lacked the immersive images to stop the painful ones. Games he found were a good mixture, it had the visuals and you needed to focus with it. Maybe he was a bad person for it, but imagining Alzay's face on the zombie's heads he was blowing off made him feel somewhat better about himself and somewhat safer. However, he thought a violent horror shooter may not be the best choice for the little four year old so settled for the more cheery Mario.

He booted it up and got them the controllers, explained it to the still shaking Amadeus. They started playing, Amadeus not being very interested or good at first but Cade did his best to be encouraging. He kept up an amicable one-sided conversation too and kept an eye on his foster son, it seemed to be working. As time wore on Amadeus got more focused on the game, his tears dried up and _finally_ he stopped trembling instead leaning forwards with eyes glued to the screen and fingers furiously clicking away at the buttons like a normal kid. It briefly brought back fond memories of when Orous was young, he hoped he was okay. Maurice too of course but Orous was the one still recovering, he still worried whether he'd done the right thing letting them go back to Hogwarts already.

He let them play for a bit longer, wanting to be a bit more sure Amadeus had indeed calmed down before taking him back to bed. The final level of the world seemed a good place to stop, they were almost there anyway.

"You did it!" Cade offered encouragingly when Amadeus delivered the final blow to the level boss, the slivers of a smile crossed his face which Cade returned warmly and patted him on the back. Amadeus didn't tense or recoil, that was a good sign and he'd definitely stopped shaking, "Great job."

Amadeus gave the slightest nods and adjusted his grip on the controller for the next level, making Cade feel slightly bad for having to put a stop to it but sleep was important too.

"We're going to have to play some other time though, it's time to go back to bed," Cade pointed out and Amadeus' shoulders slumped unhappily as Cade started packing it up, "I know it sucks but sleep is important and that's what we should be doing now, understand?"

Amadeus gave a non-committal shrug before walking off back in the direction of his room, Cade sighed to himself. He _was_ starting to get why the Dohertys considered him a handful, aside from the silence Amadeus did have a habit of not only wandering off but of hiding out in random places – his favorite was a gap behind the couch - which took forever to coax him out of since he tended to ignore instructions. Apart from that he scarfed food so fast it made him throw up which he would then try to _eat_, which was… pretty bad and why he suspected Amadeus was so thin. Cade was trying to work on that since he didn't seem to listen when he insisted rushing wasn't necessary, the food would still be there and more would come whenever he needed it. Amadeus also didn't seem fully toilet trained, sometimes he was fine and other times he seemed to prefer to just wet himself. Then were the nightmares, he also knew he'd been expelled from two schools – having homeschooled Orous that didn't faze him so much though - and that was just what he'd encountered so _far_, he'd been told there was more…

"Amadeus!" Cade called after him, hurrying to follow lest Amadeus wander off and hide instead of returning to bed. Thankfully the child was only halfway up the stairs so Cade was free to simply guide him back to his bedroom, hopefully they'd get that painted tomorrow.

…And yet, Cade didn't think he was as lost a cause as the Dohertys seemed to think. Amadeus didn't strike him as a bad kid, just that he was hurt. Not speaking didn't mean he wasn't feeling anything and he could nod or shake his head, point at things for basic communication which was how Cade had picked out some clothes for him. Like Cade had learned tended to favor dark colors like black or navy but red seemed to be his favorite, especially darker shades of red. He seemed to like space – although Cade wasn't sure if that was just because of the darker colors – but also animals in terms of images on things, despite the warmer weather he also favored longer sleeves. He may not speak or be very expressive with facial expressions but Cade had found paying close attention to his eyes and body language very helpful, those gave him away. Cade didn't think it was impossible to get through to him, yelling in frustration just wasn't the way to do it or he'd be cured by now.

"Come on," Cade urged gently as they reached the room and Amadeus reluctantly clambered into bed, he remained sitting up with his head hung and his shoulders slumped unhappily though. Cade sat down on the edge of the bed and put a comforting hand on Amadeus' arm, earning a glance from the boy, "Look you need sleep and I know the thought of having more of those dreams is scary but you can't live in fear, Amadeus, don't you feel okay now? Better than earlier?"

Amadeus looked at him for a minute before nodding slowly.

"Exactly, those dreams are scary but we can get through them," Cade told him determinedly, "When you go back to sleep you'll be okay, and_ if_ you do have another bad dream then I'll come running and we'll get through it all over again. Okay?"

Amadeus hesitated slightly before nodding once more, Cade gave him an encouragingly smile as he lay back down and proceeded to tuck him in instinctively. Amadeus watched him with his usual unreadable expression, probably trying to figure him out just as much as Cade wanted to figure him out. He did want to spend time with the kid and he wouldn't have time off work forever, he'd stick to being kind and patient with him. It was all he could do so hopefully it'd be enough.

"I know you're not going to believe me yet but you really are safe here, you're with people who love you and someday you're going to be okay," Cade assured him gently, Amadeus' expression didn't change but Cade hadn't expected it too. He kissed him goodnight on the forehead before going to leave, "Goodnight, Amadeus, sleep well."


	28. VII: Mo Serrick - A Deal with the Devil

_September 2023, (VII: Chapter 3)_

Mo Serrick lay weakly on his bed in the hospital, feeling like all strength was gone and the face mask was all that was drawing breath from his battered lungs. He could hear the rhythmic thrum of the machine, like clockwork and actually less annoying then the whirs and beeps from both beyond his room and from the other machines he was hooked up to.

He was dying. No ifs, buts or maybes, they'd caught his condition too late and he just kept deteriorating. The last three years felt like he'd been fighting a war against his own body, a losing war at that and every time something went his way there were at least three more things that didn't. And now all his strength was gone, he felt beyond spent and knew he didn't have the energy left to fight. Dying actually wasn't that painful, strangely enough. Living hurt more than dying, the painkillers he was on drowned out most everything. No reason not to make him comfortable, he was only ten.

He was at peace with death, it was beyond it that scared him. Hell was eternal pain and suffering, Heaven was supposedly good but Minister Caldwell had molested him for years – which was how he'd gotten infected and why he was on his death bed - claiming it was God's will and an expression of love so he had many complaints and doubts about Heaven being so great and had gotten in trouble many times for being angry at God and Jesus. Which was his other concern, when he still doubted God why would he even be let into Heaven if it was good? He didn't think he was a bad person but he wasn't sure he was a good person either. His best bet was just neither, nothingness wasn't so scary when he was used to spending so much of his time out of it. Least it didn't hurt.

Mo wasn't dead yet though, as straining as it was to keep breathing against the non-existent weight on his chest. He did try cling to consciousness, after all he never knew if this would be the last time or not he'd ever get to think or feel. This was why he pivoted his tired eyes around the small hospital room, ironically bigger than any room at home and there was a large window right in front of him letting in lots of light and a small TV wedged in a corner.

Not that he could see very well anymore, it was like a whitewash had been put over everything and it blurred around the edges, blurs that only spread more inward. He used to see fine, he kept blinking like to get the sleep out of his eyes to see proper but it never helped. Still he tried to watch the TV, watch the blurry colors of the cartoon. They'd left it on for him, they'd also lowered the volume to not disrupt him if he slept which was unfortunate since he could barely hear it over the hospital machines. The staff were nice enough but Mo didn't always understand their logic.

He quickly felt sleep trying to pull him back, keeping his open was tiring these days and this wasn't exactly holding his attention very well. He wondered if this was finally the last time, he hoped it wasn't as he'd like to see his family one last time. They didn't visit much, lack of money and caring but still, wasn't like he could pick his blood. He didn't even know if they were okay, the Shadows had started attacking the States now but he didn't know where or how bad or anything. The staff didn't want him to think about that bad stuff, like that helped or was even possible…

He must've fallen asleep because in the next instant he was being jolted awake by the sound of screaming, it was also strangely silent apart from that and dimmer indicating it was later. Mo looked around and noticed the TV had shut off as had some of the machines, the one giving him oxygen was the only one still working. The power must've cut off, it had happened before in a storm and the backup generators had kicked in which limited power to the most important things the staff said. He couldn't hear a storm though, he only heard screaming.

Mo felt his dying heart beat a little faster for the first time in a long time, what was happening? Was this the Shadows? He frantically scrambled for the call button with his fragile skeletal fingers, calling for a nurse to tell him what was happening. It didn't light up though, it mustn't be important enough to have power. At least the screaming sounded like it was coming from outside… it was still sounding closer by the minute though. He couldn't see well enough to make out what was happening through the window though, he'd have to get closer.

Mo pushed himself shakily into a sitting position and hauled his legs over the side of the bed, he had to take a minute to pause and breathe for a minute as even that sapped the little strength he had. He still had to know though, he had to know what was happening. Mo touched his bare feet to the ground, shuddering a little at the coldness of the linoleum as he stood up weakly. His legs trembled beneath him and he had to hold onto his IV for support, glugging down the oxygen desperately as standing continued to drain his sickly body.

He hobbled over to the window slowly, still needing to cling to the IV to support himself and drag his oxygen tank along with him because his scarred lungs needed the help. It was only a few feet but it felt a few thousand, he was so tired. He made it though, albeit panting behind his mask and leaned against the window for support as he gazed out into the city beyond.

The scene was horrifying, even with his poor vision he could see decrepit corpses were storming through the streets like zombies in a video game except… not. They didn't struggle to walk, in fact some were crawling up the walls to climb in windows and were tearing through doors without difficulty. And the people… A lot of folks were just cowering on the streets and oddly they were being left alone, anyone standing or fighting or trying to flee were being torn to shreds. Bony fingers became claws and teeth became knives, many were covered in blood because of it. They were stronger than they looked and for once Mo was glad his vision was poor now, spared him the graphic details.

Mo backed off shakily and clambered back into his bed, he lay there weakly for a minute clutching his face mask and letting himself catch his breath. He was fucked. No ifs, buts or maybes about it, he was a sitting duck and he damn well knew it. He knew he'd die soon, he just hadn't expected it to be like _this_ and today. He tried to care more and think what he should do but his eyes had closed without him realizing it, walking to the window and back had been too taxing and his now exhausted body succumbing to sleep before he could think to fight it…

"Wake up, boy," a voice barked, crisp and clear.

Mo was startled awake once more, noticing immediately it was even darker indicating it was even later and that there was a faintly rotten smell in the air. The screaming had also stopped, for some reason he wasn't sure that was a good thing though. He rolled over onto his back and was startled to see a man was now in his room, standing at the foot of his bed looking through his chart. Mo's breathing increased in panic again at the surprise, everything about the man was dark. Despite being lanky he was tall and oddly imposing, there strength in the way he stood. He also had a strong jaw, short dark greasy hair and coal colored eyes that matched the plain dark clothes he wore, pants and a thin sweater beneath a cloak. His shadow seemed unusually dark, Mo shivered although not from fear strangely enough.

"Interesting," the man drawled as he read from the chart, drawing his dark eyes away to meet Mo's and a cruel smile curled the corners of his mouth, "Quite the predicament you're in, eh? It's a wonder they didn't shoot you already, put you down like a dying dog."

Mo said nothing. It was hard with the mask and he felt no need to, he was more concerned with what the man – who had to be one of them Shadow people - wanted. And even that was more curiosity, his lack of fear very much surprised him now he adapted to the man's presence. What was there to fear? This man couldn't do anything to him he hadn't already suffered and he was on his way out, he wouldn't suffer for much longer and it'd just kill him faster. Mo wasn't afraid. He held the man's gaze unwaveringly, earning a curious cock of his head before he put down the chart.

"My name is General Stephan Hunter and I'd like to speak with you quickly, not like you have long anyway," the man introduced himself, "So, tell me Moses-"

"It's _Mo_," Mo insisted firmly even if it sounded muffled with the face mask, giving the man further pause but Mo didn't care. If he was going to die, he was going to die with his preferred name.

"You don't seem particularly afraid, _Mo_," Stephan observed thoughtfully and made sure to emphasize his name as he approached him, pulling off the oxygen mask roughly, "You do realize this city has fallen to us, don't you?"

"I… I'm al… already… dead," Mo struggled to get the words out as his breathing descended in weak wheezes without the oxygen but he still wasn't afraid just in more discomfort, "What… What's to… to fear?"

"Good question," Stephan smirked and reached out.

Mo would've screamed if he had the breath for it as he felt the man had clawed through his skull, except he hadn't even touched him. The man didn't even have claws, yet Mo still felt like talons were tearing painfully through his brain as images started to play through his mind. Memories, he realized as he saw a slightly younger version of himself collapsing when he was supposed to be running track while his coach yelled at him to get up but he was too weak. The scene changed – which was accompanied by further pain from the clawing inside his skull - and he was being kicked into the ground by his third stepdaddy who was screaming incoherent drunken insults, then he was being beaten by his drunken mama, his fourth stepdaddy and mama were laughing as they threw empty beer bottles at him in competition, his grandfather used a stick to beat him, teachers used paddles for punishment, his stepsiblings had ganged up on him, bullies did too… he'd been beaten a lot.

And then he was running from bullies, almost colliding with a wall as he realized he'd hit a dead end and he pounded on the wall uselessly instead as the kids reached him. But they couldn't see him, he blended into the wall like a chameleon and he watched his confused younger self as the kids ran off angrily ranting that they'd lost him. Then he was watching himself aim a gun, his third stepdaddy yelling at him to stop being a pussy and kill the deer which he didn't want to kill but he fired the gun anyway. And the bullet curved in the air, swinging right round and his stepdaddy fell to the ground howling in pain, clutching at his bleeding shoulder. It changed again and he was in church, angrily listening to Reverend Caldwell's spiel and the cross behind him caught fire. And then he was in the church basement again, Reverend Caldwell rambling that his name was a sign that God wanted this as he stripped… No! He didn't want to remember this.

He felt as if an explosion went off in his mind and abruptly the claws were forced out, for some reason he knew Stephan was surprised. Then he was actually back in the hospital for real as he lay gasping for breath while his body collapsed again the bed, all strength gone as darkness tried to drag him back to oblivion.

"Uh-uh," Stephan's voice complained and Mo felt his oxygen being replaced, restoring his breathing to a more bearable structure. He tried to focus on that, tried to stay conscious even if he hadn't the strength to open his eyes, "Impressive though, Mo, can't say I've ever been repelled by an underage burst of magic before. Ironically, you're certainly the strongest I've tried recruiting."

Well now Mo was just confused, this guy wanted to recruit _him_? The dying kid? He almost thought he was dreaming but somehow he just knew he wasn't, dreams didn't feel like this, they didn't hurt and he could still feel the reverberations of pain in his head. No, that had to be the magic. Even he had seen the revelation and if this guy was with them, he probably had the magic. He felt his head being moved and managed to force his eyes open a crack to see Stephan had turned his head to look at him, holding onto the mask.

"By now you've probably realized what you are?" Stephan queried, pausing to wait on his answer.

Mo hesitated before nodding. He'd always known he was different, strange things tended to happen around him, things no one could explain. That's why everyone thought he was a freak, some had called him a devil child- _especially _after he'd burned the cross. When he'd seen the revelation he'd suspected he also had the magic, this guy's interest and question seemed like confirmation to him. He still had no idea what this guy wanted though, didn't the chart mention he was dying?

"But what you probably haven't realized is that you don't have to die," Stephan told him in a tone so serious Mo felt chills crawl up in his spine, when you were dying he'd learned that false hope was a very cruel thing, "Your illness is only fatal by non-magical standards, magic can quite easily heal you."

"You'll… heal me?" Mo mumbled from behind his mask and Stephan smiled, it wasn't a kind smile.

"My people will," Stephan clarified, "But only if you agree to my condition."

"What?"

"You have to join us. There's a place we have to train our Elite soldiers with an extensive and intense regime, if you want to live you have to agree to become one," Stephan explained, "You have to sever all ties to everyone and everything you knew before and dedicate your life to us."

Mo felt a surge of mixed feelings, the idea of being an Elite soldier very much appealed to him actually. He wasn't afraid of a tough training and military service had been his desired career once upon time before he'd learned he wouldn't get to grow up, he'd get to leave his crappy home and they'd teach him to be strong, no one would ever be able to hurt him again. He was assuming he'd probably be some kind of magic soldier but he was sure the same principle applied. _But_ these were the bad guys, the ones destroying the world and he wasn't sure on ditching his family to just be with them either. Of course if he refused he was dead, he was losing his family no matter what. It seemed like the bad guys had already won anyway so what would refusing to join them accomplish? He couldn't do accomplish anything dead but if he was alive… maybe, they could just make the best of the bad guy's winning and try make it… less bad. He didn't know! But he did know his heart screamed for life, he could choose to die at any point but this was the only chance he'd ever get to choose to live.

"Well, Mo?" Stephan questioned and Mo flicked eyes he hadn't even realized had closed back to the man, "What's it going to be?"


	29. VII: Ephraim Lamb - Paternal Love

_May 15th 2024, (VII: Chapter 12)_

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Eileen commented in her gentle voice.

Ephraim Lamb realized he was standing on a beach, gentle misty water lapping onto the golden sand stretched out all around them while the sea breeze tousled his hair. The view was amazing, the twilight gave the water a dim purple hue and the stars were already reflecting off the smooth surface along with the moon… He panicked for a second for some reason as he saw the silver circle, turning to his wife to say as much but she seeing her calmed his panic.

She was stunning, the simplest of white dresses draped over her slender frame with an orange – her favorite color – sash around her waist and matching colored flowers threaded through her light brown curls. She smiled at him kindly and he squeezed her hand gently, not knowing why gazing at the woman he loved caused a twinge of pain in his heart.

"_You're_ beautiful," Ephraim told her, trying not to let the words catch in his throat. He didn't know why he felt like crying or drinking in her appearance like she could vanish at any moment, he felt like he was forgetting something terrible.

"_Eph_…" Eileen blushed and looked away shyly, she _always _blushed when he told her she was beautiful. Every time. But she was, she was the kindest, sweetest person he'd ever met. She did lack confidence though. He reached out gently to caress her scarred cheek, feeling surprised for a second as he realized his limbs were obeying him. He didn't know why that surprised him though and the thought left his mind as Eileen looked into his eyes, "I love you."

"I love you too," Ephraim whispered, closing his eyes as he leaned down to kiss her.

But something was wrong.

Screams filled the air, the sea breeze became the choking stench of smoke and its howl became a literal howl. Memory returned and panic flooded him, he opened his eyes and saw his hands were now claws. He tried to pull away desperately but he couldn't and instead of kissing her lips, he bit into her neck. Eileen screamed in pain and his claws tore her face apart against his will, he felt his fingers wrenching through her flash and tasted her blood in his mouth, felt it running through his teeth while a baby cried. Their baby…

Ephraim finally succeeding in dragging his mind back into consciousness, startling awake and sitting up as he found himself back on the rebuilt cobbled streets of Hogsmeade in an alley. He shakily leaned back against the wall next to him, blinking back tears and trying to swallow his bile as the memory of her blood in his mouth made him want to throw up.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memories turned nightmares and telling himself it wasn't his fault, he hadn't been in control. It felt like he was just trying to convince himself though, nothing changed the fact he been the one to kill her, nothing stopped the memories or the guilt. Except drinking, alcohol helped a lot.

He shook his head of it though in panic, shoving the thought well out of his mind. He _couldn't_ drink, he needed to stay sober so he could see his daughter again, their baby girl Eileen had died protecting. He had to stay sober for _her_. Eileen's parents had said they'd only let him see her if he stayed sober, stayed sober until her birthday and he wanted to see her again. And he had, he'd been very good and he just needed to last… None more days, he realized, today was her birthday.

Ephraim smiled to himself weakly, their little girl was four years old today. He got to his feet shakily, for once not even caring his wrist was just twirling randomly like it did since PAW's torture. His insides churned internally though and this time not from hunger but from nerves, it had been so long since he'd last seen her after all. She was probably – definitely – a lot different then she'd been when her grandparents had gotten custody of her, she'd only been… what? Two months? Something like that, it was a long time at any rate. Too long really, he knew that. He hadn't been the best dad, coping was hard. He was trying though, he was trying to do better.

And that started today. Ephraim nodded to himself, trying to feel more confident. He couldn't change the past but he could see her now, like right now. He'd made sure to be ready yesterday, he'd managed to shave and wash, he wanted to be presentable when he saw her of course. As presentable as he could be, he couldn't wash away the scars or stop his wrist flipping out, he could only hope the stutter wouldn't be too bad today. The only thing left was a present, he'd taken so long to pick something the shop had shut so he had to do that. So he should move. _Now._

Ephraim headed off, still feeling nervous but also excited and hopeful for the first time in a long time. He was going to see his daughter! He reached the toy store and had to pace outside for a few minutes waiting for it to open, he did at least make his mind up on what to buy her. A stuffed unicorn, he thought it was a safe enough bet for a little girl and Eileen had liked unicorns. He was the first customer when it did open and picked out the one he thought looked cutest, thankfully it was one he could afford which was good because he didn't have much.

"It- It's for my daughter," Ephraim told the shopkeeper excitedly, unable to stop himself smiling as the scowling woman insisted on counting out the coins as if expecting him to not have enough, "To- Today it- it's her birthday."

"Congrats," the shopkeeper said in a tone devoid of feeling as she finished counting, if he didn't know any better he'd say she looked displeased he actually had enough, "Well there you go."

"Thank you, have a gr- great day," Ephraim offered cheerfully as she handed him the toy along with his change put he handed it back to her, "K- Keep it, I d- don't mind."

She didn't return his cheer as he left though. He didn't blame her, he was sure he looked and sounded like a lunatic now he couldn't speak straight and his wrists when on strike frequently. He didn't let it faze him though, it wasn't like he could do anything about it. He just hoped that poor kid didn't have the same side effects of his torture with PAW.

He apparated to the small town in Devon where his in-laws lived, the same place Eileen had grown up. It was a nice day, there was a breeze but it was nice and the sun was shining. Ephraim strolled through the town, both to build up the nerve to face his in-laws and out of curiosity for the environment his daughter growing up in. It seemed nice enough although it was a muggle town which made him nervous, he knew it was irrational since he got plenty of hate in Hogsmeade but his adopted parents taking magic badly had made him feel safer in magical environments. The town wasn't that large also so he did find himself heading to the in-laws' house sooner rather than later.

Their house was on the outskirts of town which was nice, it was a nice cottage with ivy decorating the walls and a thatched roof. There was plenty of space, space was good for kids to have. Ephraim swallowed nervously as he approached the door, reaching out for the knocker but his wrist was spasming unhelpfully and he thought the knocker was too intricate for that. Instead he pushed it into a fist and knocked on the door as firmly and loudly as he could manage, he then stepped back in wait and wiped at the sweat forming on his brow while nerves and excitement chased each other around his stomach. This was it.

The door opened and he jumped he was so nervous, it was Eileen's father. Mark Acres. He was very broad-shouldered but was shorter than Ephraim himself, he was plump with gray hair that was very much balding. Eileen had his eyes though, eyes that very much seemed surprised to Ephraim standing there. He hadn't lost track of the days, had he?

"Lamb! What are you doing here?!" Mark barked at him immediately, looking even less pleased to see him then he usually did.

"I- I came to s- see my d- daught- my daughter," Ephraim found himself stumbling over his words more then he'd like, they hated him enough when he could actually speak coherently, "Like you- you said I- I could if I stayed sob- sober for her- her birthday, don't- don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember!" Mark scoffed incredulously, "But that doesn't matter, we only said that because we never thought you'd actually do it."

"Well- Well I did," Ephraim pointed out, feeling quite hurt, "I- I've been try- trying so hard for- for her, you- you have no id- no idea how much this means to me. I love- I love her so much."

"Lamb-" Mark started to say but they both froze at the sound of a little girl's laughter from inside the house.

"Is- Is that- that her?" Ephraim wondered at the thought of hearing his daughter's voice, tears of joy filling his eyes as he smiled and tried to peer around Mark to get a look at her. Until Mark pushed him back so he could stand outside and close the door behind him, confusing him further, "You- You said before I could- could see her."

"Well I'm not now," Mark hissed, his expression dark and Ephraim felt his spirits sinking further by the second, "Look Lamb if you _really_ love her then you'll stay away from her, go away and never come back."

"But-"

"She's better off without you, I know you're not very bright but surely even you can understand why," Mark continued coldly, "You're a _werewolf_, you attacked her when you turned! Her mother's dead because of _you_, they had to amputate her arm because _you_ bit her, her life is ruined because of _you_. You have no idea how much she suffers, how much you hurt her."

"I- I couldn't help that when I turned," Ephraim insisted unhappily, trying to blink away the painful memories, "The first- first time you can't help it, you- you have no control and- and it's not really _you_-"

"And you think that matters?" Mark spat at him, "You think that makes it okay? _Nothing _makes it okay, Elara's better off without you- heck the _world_ is better off without you. The best you can do for is just go and die, if you want to make her happy then just die. At least that way we can tell her that the monster that killed her mother is dead!"

"I- I- I- I-" Ephraim stammered, fighting off tears as words failed him and his mind seized up. He didn't know what to say, Mark wasn't _wrong._ He'd never forgive himself for what happened but he also still wanted his daughter, he hadn't wanted any of that to happen. He'd been bitten trying to protect them.

"Go, Lamb, if you really love her then go. I'm not going to damage her even more by exposing her to her mother's killer, it'd destroy her."

"I- I-" Ephraim still didn't know what to say, instead his eyes drifted to the unicorn and he held it out to Mark, "C- C- Can you at least g- give her this an- and wish her a happy bir- birthday for- for me?"

"No," Mark scoffed, folding his arms and wrinkling his nose in disgust, "She hates unicorns. Shows how much _you_ know about her."

"Well I- I- erm…" Ephraim trailed off, not having any defense for that and tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he tried not to break down crying but he was failing, "C- Can you j- just tell her that- that I love her then?"

"Maybe if you get the hell out of here," Mark insisted and abruptly shooed him away, "Like now, Lamb. I said get!"

Ephraim brokenly disapparated.


	30. III: Ephraim Lamb - Check

**_Thanks to:_**_ _ChakraKitty and Colin Creevey for reviewing!__

__**Author's Note:** Ever wondered what I do while I'm waiting for my laptop to load or do a virus scan? This__

* * *

_June 26th 2020, (III: Chapter 17)_

Ephraim Lamb was startled awake by the sound of his infant daughter crying, least he hoped he was startled awake as he felt as if he'd only just closed his eyes. He was really tired and his body still ached from wounds received during the werewolf attack on Hogsmeade three weeks ago. It was as if he permanently had sleep in his eyes these days, except the sleep felt like grit. He knew they weren't getting much sleep, every time they lay down to rest it never seemed long before one of them woke up screaming and when one of them did, it set the other off.

He glanced with his gritty eyes over at his daughter, he had her laid out beside him on the bare mattress - he'd had to sell her crib and his bedframe to pay the rent - beside him bundled up against the cold – he couldn't afford heating - comfortably while he had nothing. It was bad but he had a job interview later, if it went well things could finally be looking up for them. He felt a painful pang in his heart as he did every time he looked at her, both because she reminded him so much of Eileen and because she was waving a bandaged stump where an arm had been a month ago. They'd had to amputate it to save her life because he'd bitten her, he tried shove those agonizing memories aside as he pulled his baby girl into his arms. He loved her so much.

"Shhh... its okay, Elara, its okay," he offered gently, cradling her. _Except its not okay_, his mind told him cruelly and he held her closer, desperately hoping this was an instance of her just wanting to be held as he really wanted to sleep, "Please stop crying."

She didn't.

Ephraim sat up unhappily, holding her to his chest protectively and glancing around the tiny one room apartment. It was bad, it was downright appalling really. The place was falling apart, paint was chipping off damp-ridden walls and the rotting floorboards kept giving him splinters. The front door was opposite the bathroom door, both were also rotting and the locks didn't work then on the walls in between they had windows, one was cracked with a hole in it while the other was boarded up because it shattered completely and beneath that was the rusted radiator he couldn't afford to use. The bathroom door wall was the kitchen, there was a counter peeling off with a refrigerator that only went as cold as room temperature beneath. There was an oven rusted to death that had started vomiting thick black smoke the first - and last - time he'd tried to use it, there were also some cabinets on the walls while one had no handle, one had a door hanging off its hinges and one had no door period. They were all full of baby formula anyway pretty much, he wouldn't let her go without.

In terms of furniture, there was the mattress and a lone lopsided dresser that held the few clothes he had, Elara's baby things and diapers. One of the three drawers was literally nothing but diapers. It was a pitiful excuse for a 'home' but it was even more pitifully the best he could do, he had absolutely nothing and he was hemorrhaging the money he didn't even have. He was trying to find work but if he actually got as far as the interview stage, one look at him showing up bedraggled with a baby in his arms had them point to the door. He didn't know what else to do though, he couldn't afford a sitter and he didn't have anyone to watch her, which would also make working problematic but hey he needed to actually _get_ a job before he could worry about that though. People were just falling over themselves to hire a barely literate werewolf whose highest NEWT was an A, God he was worthless. That being said, he actually did have a job interview later - he'd set an alarm to wake him up - so hopefully that could go better, maybe.

"Please stop crying," Ephraim pleaded tearfully as he started to smell smoke he knew wasn't there and quickly patted Elara's butt to check for dampness but she was dry as he suspected, this wasn't her 'I-wet-myself' cry just like it wasn't her 'hold-me' cry and it certainly wasn't her 'I'm-hungry' cry. It was her 'my-stump-hurts-why-won't-you-make-the-pain-stop' cry, it was the worst cry because he didn't know how to make it stop and it killed him knowing his daughter was in a pain he couldn't help. Especially when he was the reason she had a stump in the first place, he often wondered whether she had nightmares about it like he did. He held her close, "Please stop crying."

Darkness he knew was impossible started to creep in the corners of the room, the smell of the smoke that wasn't there crawled further into his brain. He tried to ignore it, he needed it to go away. He had a job interview later, he really didn't need this right now. He might get it, he just needed to not... this. He took Elara's stump in his hand, trying to massage it to soothe the pain. The guy who'd bought the crib had said his brother's friend's uncle's friend's grandfather was a war veteran who'd lost his leg and massaging it often gave him relief, was worth a shot. He shuddered and his eyes closed to the block it out as distant echoes of screams somehow pierced his ears through his daughter's agony, of course it would though as it was all in his head.

"Just please stop crying," he begged, so desperately needing the memories to stop but she continued to wail at the pain that only existed in her head, "Please stop crying…"

He heard the howl of a werewolf and his eyes snapped open in terror, finding he was no longer inside his crummy apartment but sitting on the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade. He jumped to his feet in shock while simultaneously trying to tell himself it wasn't real as he spun around, that voice was so quiet now and so wrong. It was so real. He could taste the ash in the air, feel the cold night air on his face despite the heat from the flames. Houses and shops were ablaze with luminous flames, accidentally lit up by people trying to use fire against the werewolves. He could hear their howls echoing in the night, hear the screams of terror from their victims which was all of them tonight. Even though it was day…

"Eileen!" Ephraim called out for his wife who had a terrible fear of fire and would be terrified, starting to wander the street a little with their daughter still crying in his arms. She was okay though, it was his wife he needed to find so they could get out of there. Even though she was already dead…

He froze at the sound of a low growl and slowly turned with his heart pounding, seeing a large menacing werewolf was standing there. The hackles on its hulking body was raised, in general its fur was so mangy and matted it seemed to clump together in spikes naturally making it look all the more dangerous. Its golden eyes gleamed in the firelight and were fixated on him, teeth- teeth already damp from blood bared threateningly. How could this not be real?

It ran at him and it was all Ephraim could do to throw himself out of the way, holding his baby protectively to his chest to try shield her with his body. It barely missed him and he rolled to get back onto his feet as soon as possible, he needed to draw his wand but he couldn't with his daughter in his arms. He was helpless. The werewolf gave a cry of rage at having missed its prey and spun back around to him, Ephraim tried to back away while still keeping Elara positioned as far from those fierce jaws as he could. Though if anything happened to him she'd have no protector, it wasn't liked she'd be much better off if he was bitten instead. Even though he already had been…

"Help!" Ephraim called out desperately as the werewolf advanced slowly with a snarl, like it was trying to make sure he didn't get out of the way this time. He tripped over some debris and stumbled back where he met a wall, "Help! Please, anyone! I have a baby! Help, please!"

The werewolf lunged again and Ephraim could only duck frantically - while still shielding Elara with his arms as best he could - so it collided with the wall instead, in fact it had so much force and Hogsmeade was made of so many wooden houses that it just busted through. It would no doubt only keep it out of his sight for a second but it was still a chance to get away, he's take it. Ephraim leaped back to his feet, swiveling his head as he did so to get a lay of the street landscape. Even though he was actually in an apartment…

Spotting a narrow alleyway more removed from the fighting and maybe harder for a werewolf to navigate, Ephraim made a beeline for it. It was much darker there, the buildings either side weren't in flames and the moon wasn't visible from that angle. He didn't want to see the moon anyway, the silver orb was now an ominous and terrible beacon for pain and death. Even though it wasn't a full moon right now…

Ephraim's heart practically jumped out of his chest as he heard growling from behind him, the werewolf was after them again. His eyes spun frantically but the alleyway was unfortunately a dead end, nothing but tall dark slabs of stone and a door to his right. Seeing no other option, he yanked desperately on the door which miraculously wasn't locked and flew open. He leaped immediately inside and slammed the door behind him, not a moment too soon as the door jolted violently from the werewolf crashing into it from the other side.

Ephraim took a single step back into a wall, seeing it must be some small storage space about the size of a shower cubicle because there was nothing but solid brick walls around him, one with a hose hanging on it. They were trapped.

Tears bubbled into his eyes and he slowly shakily sunk to the ground, sitting with his knees bent and pressed against his arms still holding Elara protectively to his chest so he was folded up around her as much as possible, if the werewolf got to them it'd have to go through him. He could still hear the ferocious snarls of the beast on the other side, the thuds as it slammed and clawed at that wooden door between them. He prayed to God it would hold, that it'd protect his baby girl.

She was still crying. Now there was nothing else that he could do he could try soothe to her, rocking her gently and massaging her poor little wrist. He couldn't imagine what she must be thinking, she'd barely lived and already death was knocking on the door. He jolted fearfully at a particularly loud bang from the werewolf, his vision blurry from tears as he kissed the top of her head lovingly before closing his eyes, distantly he thought he heard an alarm going off…

"Shh, Elara, it's okay. It's okay, Daddy's here," Ephraim whispered to her gently, soothingly and felt more tears slide down his face, "And Daddy loves you _so_ much, Daddy loves you and Mummy loves you, Mummy also loves you _so_ much. You're loved, Elara, you're so loved. You were always loved, even if we're not there we love you. We love you so much, Elara."

He didn't know how much time passed as he hid there, curled up with his daughter. Just listening to the werewolf fight to get in, hearing more distant howls and people screaming- children even as those poor Hogwarts students had still been there for their Hogsmeade trip. At some point Elara stopped crying and all the chaos slowly started to subside, fading away until there was nothing but silence, just a still silence hanging in the air.

Ephraim opened his eyes, almost shocked to see there was no wooden door in front of him but grimy frosted glass. He looked around and realized he wasn't hiding in some kind of storage room at all, he was hiding in the shower, in the bathroom of his crummy apartment nowhere near Hogsmeade. Of course he was, the attack on Hogsmeade had been weeks ago. He choked on a sob, he didn't understand why this was happening to him. Was he just going crazy?

Filled with shame and self-loathing, he tried to shove those tears aside. He had other things to deal with, like that job interview he'd probably already missed and his daughter. He glanced down and quickly confirmed Elara was still in his arms, she must've drifted off to sleep at some point as she was soundly snoozing now. Maybe he had fallen asleep too? Who knows, he certainly didn't. At least she wasn't in pain anymore.

He sighed and let his head rest back on the cracked tiles, mold had crept into the grot between them. Idly he wondered if it was even legal for the landlord to be renting him something of such abysmal quality, it didn't even smell- He didn't even let himself finish that thought, recognizing the scent and put a hand to Elara's bum which was damp as he'd suspected. She needed a diaper change, he should do that before she woke up and got upset over it.

Ephraim stood, feeling stiff after being in such a cramped position for apparently a sizable amount of time and shifted his arms so he'd have a free one to open the door while the other held Elara. The jostling was seemingly enough to waken her as her eyelids slowly slid open, blinking sleepily a few times and he gave her a kind smile as he left the bathroom.

"You awake now, sleepy head, huh?" Ephraim offered and she gurgled a little in response, he loved the adorable little sounds and movements she made.

He spotted his phone on the counter in passing and picked it up quickly, it was one of those smart phone dealies. Eileen's parents had gotten it for him so they could communicate, if they weren't paying for it he'd have sold it already but it did make for a decent alarm. When he'd figured out how it worked anyway, when he'd been living with his adoptive muggle parents phones had had buttons not applications. He heaved a sad sigh even though he'd suspected it as he saw the alarm had triggered and what time it was now, he'd missed his interview and a phone call.

Ephraim dropped the phone back on the counter, feeling immensely frustrated with himself. What was wrong with him? Were things really not bad enough already without his own mind trying to sabotage him? Why did these things keep happening? Before he could ponder it further, his thoughts were interrupted as Elara started crying again. He was relieved though, this time it was her 'I-wet-myself' cry because she'd inevitably woken up enough to notice she'd soiled herself.

"Okay, let's get you cleaned up," Ephraim promised her, going over to the lopsided dresser with a suppressed yawn. He was still tired.

He already had the changing mat on top of the lopsided dresser since it tended to serve as her changing table, the baby powder was already there along, as were the wipes and a small pile of clean diapers which he had plenty more of in the draws. He was distracted from putting her down by the sound of the door, he jolted in panic at the knock with his first thought jumping back in terror to werewolves.

"Lamb, open up!" the familiar voice of Eileen's father called, easing that concern and sending his stress spiking in a whole other direction. He went to open the door but Mark barged in anyway, his wife Dorothea not far behind him, "Your door doesn't even lock!"

"Yeah, they should fix that," Ephraim muttered as the old couple marched into his apartment looking disapproving, Mark slamming the door behind him, "Just come right in, why don't you…"

"What are you doing to my poor grandchild?!" Dorothea demanded, swooping in on him and he reluctantly let her take Elara from his arms.

"She's fine, she just needs to be changed-"

"Well why haven't you don't it?!"

"I was about to just before you came in!" Ephraim insisted but Dorothea had already shifted focus to Elara's and brought her over to the changing mat, "You should've rang or something."

"We did call! You didn't answer your phone," Mark complained at him angrily, sometimes Ephraim wondered if they were even capable of not saying anything to him angrily.

"Sorry, I was…" Ephraim started to explain but trailed off, realizing he didn't exactly have a good excuse and he wasn't sure how to describe his weird episode. He didn't think that'd satisfy them anyway.

"Oh my poor baby, is your Daddy not taking good care of you?" Dorothea cooed at Elara's whilst changing her, "Let's get you out of that smelly old thing,"

"You were what?" Mark barked at him, drawing his attention back to his father-in-law, "Sleeping? Being too stupid to operate a phone? Barking at squirrels?"

"Look, I'm just tired, okay?" Ephraim muttered in response, it wasn't exactly a lie and he just wanted to move on. Mark continued glaring at him unsympathetically, "Why are you here? It's a long drive for you, I could've just apparated if you wanted to see Elara- I had a job interview so it would've been perfect timing."

"Did you get the job?"

"No, I um… I missed the interview," Ephraim admitted ashamedly and Mark gave a satisfied smirk.

"I thought so and as to why we're here… well we were already in London because we've been liaising with the Ministry of Magic," Mark explained and withdrew a letter from the inside of his jacket pocket, handing it over to him, "This is for you."

Ephraim took the letter cautiously, it was of thick yellowish parchment typical for wizards. It had his name in ink on one side and was sealed with a Ministry seal on the other, he opened it with a mixture of foreboding and curiosity. Inside he was met with a thick slab of the same kind of parchment, except this had a _lot_ of words on it. He groaned inwardly, he struggled with reading. Especially long words which this seemed to have plenty of, he also couldn't read quickly especially not this much.

"What is it?" Ephraim asked, suppressing a sigh but it was the faster way to get an answer.

"Too stupid to read it, Lamb?" Mark scoffed disapprovingly.

"There we go!" Dorothea piped up and Ephraim spared a glance for the girls, seeing Dorothea picking up a presumably changed Elara, who had also stopped crying, "Who's got a nice clean bottom now, huh?"

"It's faster if you just tell me," Ephraim confirmed, turning back to Mark who looked bursting to tell him anyway.

"It's a summons for a court hearing with the Wizengamot," Mark explained triumphantly, "We're fighting you for custody of Elara."

"W- What?" Ephraim stammered out in shock, he felt like he'd been punched in the face. In fact, he'd much rather Mark had just punched him in the face, "You want to take Elara away from me?"

"Yes!"

"Why?! Why would you do that?!" Ephraim demanded in confusion, feeling tears prick at his eyes at the thought of losing his daughter too.

"_Why?_" Mark spluttered out in shock and exchanged a look with his wife as if flabbergasted he had to explain it, "Where do I even begin?!"

"We just want what's best for Elara," Dorothea stated pointedly as if it were obvious, "And that's to be raised by us."

"But she's my daughter!" Ephraim yelled at them incredulously, still fighting back tears.

"And you're a wreck!" Mark shot back angrily and Ephraim was forced to wipe at his eyes, "How can you expect to take care of a child when you can't even take care of yourself?! You don't have a job, you don't have any money, look around you! You think this dump is a suitable or healthy environment for a child?!"

"It's just until I get back on my feet!" Ephraim insisted still struggling not to cry, catching sight of Dorothea still holding Elara and took back his daughter half-afraid she'd just walk out with her, "Things will get better, this isn't permanent. It wouldn't even be so bad if you would just help me, I'm doing the best I can-"

"And your best isn't good enough! We have money, we have a home that we own, we even have her room done up all ready- what do you have, Lamb? Nothing! Elara needs to be cared for now-"

"She is cared for!" Ephraim screeched, his voice cracking and he felt tears fly from his eyes which probably wasn't helping his case, "She's fed, she's clean-"

"She was wet and crying when we walked through the door!"

"I was just about to change her, she'd only just started-"

"A likely story," Dorothea scoffed disapprovingly.

"It's the truth! Elara comes first, always! I love my daughter-"

"We love her too! Except we actually have the means to give her everything she needs-"

"Did you love her when you bit her?!" Mark raged at the same time as his wife was speaking, his words silenced her though and Ephraim flinched, trembling now as he fought not to remember tearing his wife's throat out and biting the arm Elara had then had to have amputated, "When you murdered her mother and robbed our daughter of her life?!"

"I didn't have a choice!" Ephraim wailed hopelessly, choking on his tears and blinking back painful memories, "You lose your mind when you turn, I couldn't stop it. You don't know what its like-"

"Yes you could! You always have a choice, you could've fought it but you didn't! Lycanthropy or not, if you really loved her then you wouldn't have murdered Eileen! You wouldn't have attacked your own baby!" Mark yelled while Ephraim desperately tried to push those memories away as the light started to fade and the faint smell of burning reached his nostrils, though despite that it didn't go unnoticed by him how Mark's voice cracked at saying his dead daughter's name, they were hurting too, "You're a monster, Lamb! You're a monster and even with your abysmally low intelligence, you know it! Do you have any idea how traumatic it must be for Elara to be getting care from the monster that destroyed her life?! What are you even going to do next full moon?!"

"Please, just stop," Ephraim pleaded shakily, very afraid of them triggering another episode and he really couldn't deal with this right now.

"If you can't handle one conversation, how do you expect to handle raising a child?! What will you do when she asks these questions?!"

"I don't know-"

"Exactly! You don't know, you don't know anything about being a parent! How could you when you're still a kid yourself-"

"I'm twenty-one!"

"That's still a kid, we're adults! We have experience, we know what we're doing, we already made our mistakes and learned from them with Eileen! You don't know what you're doing, you're already failing her, you're a wreck and an idiot- how are you supposed to know how to be a good father when you don't even have a family?!"

"I had a family…" Ephraim muttered, so shocked and hurt they'd use that against him that he looked back to Mark.

"Yeah and your real parents gave you up! Then your adoptive parents gave you up! Says a lot about what a terrible person you are and how you know nothing about families!" Mark shouted, his face red with anger.

Ephraim just averted his eyes, still feeling hurt at the low blow. He was tempted to tell them that they were hardly as perfect as they thought they were, that Eileen had actually been glad to have more freedom, that she'd not wanted them to be so smothering and overbearing to Elara. He wasn't that mean though, he couldn't be that cruel. Mark might've even realized he'd gone a bit too far as he didn't say anything else, though he didn't apologize either.

"Look, Lamb," Dorothea began - he didn't know why they never used his first name - and he looked back up, wiping at his bleary teary tired eyes, "We just want what's best for her and that's for her to be with us, if you want what's best for her too then you should just agree to it now. Maybe we'll still let you visit her then."

"No," Ephraim said quietly but with an unwavering firmness, he pointed the door, "Just get out of our home."

"Fine, we'll see you in court then," Mark announced firmly as the pair started shuffling towards the door, "Don't worry, Elara, you'll be in a real home soon."

He slammed the door behind him which made Ephraim flinch in fright, the sound reminding him of the explosive bangs people had been casting to try defend themselves from werewolves. Ephraim backed up against a wall and slowly slid down it, he took one look at the letter still in his hand before screwing it up - best he could with one hand anyway - and chucking it across the room.

Ephraim could then dedicate both hands to holding Elara, shifting her position so she was looking up at him now. She was feeling more energetic now, emitting a happy sound as she kicked her little legs and wiggled. He still couldn't get over how small she was, he knew of course babies were small but it was the details that amazed him. Her little button nose, the lines of her minuscule yet perfectly formed ears, all of her tiny fingers curled against his chest… it was just miraculous.

Elara gazed up into his eyes, watching him carefully and gurgling happily. He knew he should feed her soon, it was about time she'd be getting hungry. Was he really doing that bad a job taking care of her? She seemed alright apart from when her stump pained her and it wasn't like being with her grandparents would magically stop that. He took her little hand and kissed her fingers gently, the love he and his wife had had made a whole little person. How could he feel anything but overwhelming love for that person? Their daughter, their precious little girl… And now she was all that was left of Eileen.

She was keeping him going, everything he did he did for her. He was trying so hard to do right by her, to keep her safe and happy, cared for and loved, he wanted nothing but good things for her. They'd been so excited to be parents, it was painful that Eileen wouldn't get to see their daughter grow up and that Elara wouldn't even get to remember what an amazing mother she had. He loved being a dad - despite everything – and he wasn't going to give her up, not willingly. He didn't even know what he'd do if he lost her, he wasn't sure he could cope.


End file.
